Clueless in Ouran
by luxartisan
Summary: Ouran Academy is an academic powerhouse, but its students aren't so smart about matters of the heart, as three friends discover. Friendships are tested, lovers are challenged and relationships are altered. Based primarily on the anime with a nod to the manga. Additional tags: Friendship/Love, Yaoi, Het, Friends to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending.
1. Anything but Ordinary

**Preface ~ Clueless in Ouran is not songfic; however, chapter titles may reflect theme, character mindset or chapter activity. Lyrics at the end of each chapter. Link to complete YT playlist at the end of the first and most recent chapters. I spend almost as much time searching for the "right" song as I do writing the chapter, so I hope you give a listen. Both the songs and the vids are the property of their creators and I sure as hell don't own OHSHC. Thank you in advance for any support you can spare. It keeps the muse and me going. Please enjoy.  
**

**Chapter 1 - Anything But Ordinary**

"What a week," Haruhi grumbles. She presses open the heavy door to Music Room 3. Inside it's quiet for a Thursday afternoon. Neither Tamaki nor Kyoya are available today and without Father and Mother, the Host Club's regular hours are suspended.

_Just as well. I have two exams tomorrow and I'm only ready for one. _She hangs her winter coat and accessories in the wardrobe. The spine of her history text crackles and she thumbs to the assigned chapter. She flips open her netbook and sits down at the small work table. Contrary to what she once thought, she finds the buzz of the outer room an aide in helping her focus as long as it doesn't get too raucous. _And minus Tamaki, I can stay late without his freaking out and forcing me to leave._

"Haruhi!" come the sing-song voices of the Hitachiins as they enter the prep room. _Here we go._ They drape themselves on opposite sides of her as she tries to ignore them.

"Anything we can help with?" Kaoru to her left asks a legitimate question.

"We'd love to assist." That would be Hikaru to her right, lacing his statement with innuendo.

"Yes," she replies sitting back in her chair and turning her head to regard one pair of amber eyes, then the other. "You can leave me alone. I have to study." She observes the predictable pouts and promptly ignores them.

"Hikaru, Haruhi must be going through that "difficult time" and doesn't feel friendly."

"Poor Haruhi. Just imagine if we had to endure such discomfort." They fall into one another's arms.

"It would be unbearable."

"I couldn't stand to see you suffer, Kaoru."

"Would you guys get lost already?"

"Killjoy," Hikaru tosses off before they slink over to the loveseat beneath the arched windows.

_Thank goodness._ She returns her attention to her reading getting through only a page of dry material before Honey-senpei's delighted squeal captures her attention.

"Haru-chan, I brought you a treat," the diminutive boy chortles as he stands on the opposite side of the table and pushes a fine china plate towards her laden with a luscious bakery confection Haruhi wants but resists. If she accepted every offering Honey-senpai presented, she'd have to buy a new wardrobe.

"Thank you, Honey-senpai. Hello, Mori-senpei." She doesn't need to see him to know he's nearby.

"Hnnn," comes the ubiquitous response which means _Hello Haruhi. I can see you're pretty busy so I'll get my cousin out of your hair. Bye._

Haruhi shakes her head and sighs to herself. She's definitely been a host too long if she understands Morispeak. The twins have settled within her line of sight or her within theirs depending on your point of view. Their shoes are off with their stockinged feet and lower legs entwined as if one person with two heads. They're busy with their Smartphones, fingers flying and mouths moving.

"Hey, Kaoru. Take a look at this." Fingers flash.

"Woah. She's hot." Flash, flash.

"What do you think about the outfit?"

"A bit trashy, but fixable."

"How?"

"Less fabric." They burst into mutual laughter.

"First years," she mutters to herself. In a raised voice, she says, "Can't you just text?"

"Of course," admits Kaoru.

"But it's more fun this way," Hikaru informs.

"Fun for whom?" she retorts, irked with herself for even responding.

"For all of us," he continues throwing her a smile that's irresistible no matter how hard she tries to resist it. _Damn Hitachiins_. Their grades are good by Ouran's standards, but their futures are assured regardless. Hers is not. Her shoulders slump in defeat. Maybe a straightforward request will work. "Don't you get it? I _have_ to study."

Hikaru disentangles himself, rises and slips on his loafers before extending a hand to his brother. "Come along, Kaoru. Far be it from us to be the cause of Haruhi obtaining anything less than her usual perfect scores."

The seated boy grabs the proffered hand, holding onto it as he dons shoes. They put their heads together and check out one another's devices, chuckling at something she doesn't want to know about. "Tomorrow," they chime as they leave the suite. _Alone at last._

It's quiet for some time after that but she finds herself staring at the small font of her textbook without comprehension. The longer she stares, the sleepier she becomes. It isn't fatigue; it's boredom.

The blank screen of her netbook is still blank and she's beginning to doubt that it will be filled any time soon. _That won't do_. 'Idleness is the devil's playground' she can hear her mom say. She ponders the meaning of the axiom. Certainly, no one could accuse her of idleness. _I barely have enough hours in the day to get everything done. But…the devil's playground? What would that look like?_

Before she can even contemplate the idea, several faces come to mind - the entire Host Club, in fact. _Is that really how I think of them? Devilish playmates?_ Haruhi's interest is tempted away from her studies to less weighty, though far more intriguing, matters.

_If they are devils, they encourage sin. But which ones?_ She dismisses Honey outright, then thinks, _Does coveting sweets count as Gluttony? He does eat three cakes for dessert every night, so yeah, I guess so._

_Mori-senpai?_ Haruhi has to think on that one. _The boy is an athletic god and one of the nicest people I know, but he probably has a dark side… somewhere. Most people do or at least have a secret they don't want widely known. Besides, it's Crush-on-Mori week. _Her affection for one host or another varies in duration but never for long. _Well then, be honest with yourself and admit that for this week, Mori is inciting Lust- unrequited, of course. It'll pass._

She considers the twins. _Imps, yes. Devils, no_. And whatever they did in the privacy of their lives was their business. Her father is a working transvestite, after all, and she's accustomed to odd glances and whispers. _Maybe that's why I'm comfortable with these guys. As for the Hitachiins' sins: for Kaoru, it's Vanity. No question. And Hikaru's temper is problematic so….Anger?_

_Tamaki-senpai._ He bedevils her with his antics, _but he means well. He's just so over the top. Still, if any sin is his, it has to be Pride. I guess it's justifiable - top grades, almost girlish beauty, brilliant at piano and poised to inherit a fortune. _She treasures his friendship but knows better than to take his attentions too seriously.

That leaves only one Host Club member to consider: _Kyoya-senpai_. Haruhi's thoughts stop cold. Host Club's Vice President possesses classic good looks, a mind too sharp for his own good and a bona fide Cayman bank account at the tender age of seventeen. _Is Greed his failing? _There's definitely a dark side to the upperclassman. Kyoya doesn't interact with the world - he observes and influences it. _Well, that is his job. Planning and earning the club profits. Practice for the real world, right? _

But it's more than that. Kyoya has a way of holding himself apart even while in their midst. Their guests see it as cool or mysterious which works to his advantage, but he doesn't have a true following nor does he cultivate one. _Tamaki must have agreed to that, but why? If he's gay, I don't care. Asexual? Unlikely. Bisexual? Completely possible. Why am I over-thinking this? Because I'm curious. No matter how you look at it, I'm a member of a club that exists to entertain girls who have too much time on their hands and too much yaoi in their heads. At least the girls are upfront in their adoration and the boys really are gentlemen even if they are feeding their egos and sublimating some of their sexual urges. Thank you, Psych class, for helping me understand guys' stupid behaviors_.

And speaking of the hosts' behaviors, she's only just learned that while the girls think they select their favorite host, it is the girl herself who is evaluated upon first coming to the Club. It's then decided which host is best suited to meet the girl's needs for flattery, attention and hi-jinks. _Quite calculated_, Haruhi admits knowing that Kyoya is the mastermind of that particular club convention. _I haven't been briefed on the specifics yet, but I can guess._

Haruhi looks at the cursor on the pristine screen of her netbook tap with impatience. Clearly she's not studying. _That which we resist persists_, she reminds herself. With a groan, she surrenders and starts typing…

**Assignment of Guests by Type**

**Haruhi - Can work with girls who like the bookish, sensitive type; the one who relates to their problems. They enjoy his intellectual companionship thinking that their maidenhood is safe or that they can teach him a thing or two, in due time.**

Haruhi stares at what she's just stated._ Ugh. I even wrote 'his.' Still, it sounds right. Cool. _Emboldened, she continues…

**Honey - Gets the girls with a "cute" fetish; the ones who will overdose on anything small, sweet, big-eyed, fluffy, furry or huggable. They simply adore him and never suspect that the eighteen year old is a master actor playing a role while gobbling up the attentions of his loyal ladies and all the sweets he can find.**

_So ingenious, it's ingenious. _She holds up two fists, thumbs up._ Props to the Candyman._

**Mori - Attracts sensible girls who take their studies seriously, are somewhat non-athletic and a bit shy. His quiet devotions are comforting while his physical stature makes him both a fantasy object and a potential bodyguard. Little do they know...**

_Fantasy object? Little do they know? Get a life, Haruhi. _

**Kaoru and Hikaru - Where one goes, the other follows and that is their singular/dual draw. Their twincest-obsessed visitors gravitate to them from the outset and require no special handling at all. Actually, it's the twins who need handling.**

_That's putting it mildly._

**Tamaki - Enter the master at handling the difficult girls. The most spoiled, vain and demanding daughters of the elite melt under his warm gaze and adoring words. And just about every other female with whom he comes into contact. Jeez.**

_Good thing we're only friends. I don't think I could take an amorous Tamaki, could I? Hmmm._

**Kyoya - All the rest if he wanted them? No way. The third son of the Ootori family would never accept sloppy seconds or sloppy anything, for that matter. The girl he would like would have to be not just bright, but clever; pretty though not necessarily beautiful; self-made in her own right even if from a distinguished family. Why do I even care?**

"Why indeed?" The voice that asks is precise, mellow and somewhat amused.

Haruhi stops typing and sits frozen. Then, without hurrying, her hands move to close the netbook, fingers resting against the smooth surface while a slow burn rises to her cheeks. _Busted. _She lifts her head, determined to play through. The gray eyes behind the lenses hold hers steadily. G_et a grip, Haruhi. It's only Kyoya-senpai messing with your head, again._

The prickle of annoyance spurs her. "I thought rich people had better manners than to read over someone's shoulder, especially if it's personal. Your parents would be disappointed." The words are out before she can recall them but she's surprised at the flash of hurt in his face before his well-worn mask is reseated. "I'm sorry," she offers.

"No, I'm sure they are." His sarcasm holds a ring of truth that unsettles her. _Something is wrong. _She sees it in the way his body has stiffened and the line of his mouth hardened. He turns and leans back into the table, half-sitting on it with one hand grasping the edge, close to the netbook.

She pushes back the chair and stands, now eye to eye with him. "What do you mean?" she asks.

"Hh?" He leans back a bit as if he wasn't quite paying attention. _That's weird. Kyoya is never caught off guard_.

"About your parents," she says voice level and non-judgmental. "What makes you think they're disappointed with you?" He stalls an answer, eyes searching hers for motive before darting away. "I'm interested," she says.

He blinks several times and lifts his chin, pushing back his glasses with two fingers. He begins to say something, then stops. First hurt and now indecision in the person she thought impervious to such things. _Is the sky falling?_ He stands and attempts to move past her. Her hand reaches out and grabs his sleeve. He stops and she stares up into his profile. "I'm interested. Just talk to me."

He doesn't look at her. "Why? Do you need the gratification of knowing you can get me to share something about myself with you?" His subtle disdain cuts her, but she still wants to know what's bothering him.

"Why are you so distant? What did they do to you?" she demands.

"As your notes state: why do you care?" He turns and looks at her.

"I don't know, except I thought we were friends."

"That's not a word I take lightly, Haruhi."

"I respect that. I respect you, Kyoya-senpai. Don't you know that?" Her voice holds the hurt at his rebuff of her friendship. "I guess it really is silly for me to think that you would consider me your friend just because we see one another nearly every day. Yet, here I am ticked off about you reading some personal nonsense while I expect you to tell me your problems. I apologize. It's your decision who your friends are and who you confide in. It's your life." She emphasizes the last three words as admonishment to herself. "I really am sorry," she says calmly then turns to collect her things.

"It's…complicated."

She doesn't turn, fearful that if she does, conversation will cease. "Families usually are," she replies. "You know, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but I'll listen to whatever you do want to say. And it stays between us - guaranteed. That's how it works."

"And I suppose I'll be expected to reciprocate the gesture?"

She turns then and looks squarely into his eyes. "I'm not a guest you have to entertain. My happiness is not your responsibility. That's _my _job. All I ask is that you make a little space in your life for me - and I'll do the same for you."

"I may fail you." The word 'fail' and Kyoya are incongruent to her.

She shakes her head with a sough of air. "I doubt you've failed at anything in your life."

"Not true."

"Oh?"

"According to my parents, I am a failure." He says it without rancor, dark hair falling forward as his head tilts downwards.

"How can that be?" Her eyes widen and her voice is soft. She thinks of her dad and the way he drives her crazy with his overprotective doting. She remembers her mom and the way she always made time for her. _How could any parent think such a brilliant and talented son is a failure or make him feel that way? It doesn't make sense._

He heads to the sofa the twins occupied earlier and sits down at one end. He crosses his legs and leans back, running elegant hands beneath his glasses to massage his eyes and caress his temples with small circles. He loosens the knot of his tie and unbuttons his jacket along with the top button of his shirt. He doesn't look at her and she wonders if indirect contact is the only way he can open up to anyone. "Dear, naïve Haruhi. Life is different for the children of wealthy families."

"Tell me something I don't know." She moves towards the sofa with slow even steps.

"I told you once. People only see the trappings and ornaments of power and prestige. What they don't see is the pressure and expectations and never ceasing reminders about your _place_, your _role_, your _duty_ to family."

"But I thought you considered it a fun challenge." She stands at the opposite end of the sofa now.

"When the odds are manageable; not when they're completely stacked against you." He turns towards her then, shifting to face her with his inside leg angled on the sofa. "Besides, you have something that I will never have no matter how much money my family possesses. You have freedom, Haruhi. I do not and never will."

She is stunned by his assessment. "Senpai-"

"Kyoya is fine. I think you've earned that privilege and," He stops then adds, "I apologize if I made you feel that I don't consider you a friend because I do."

"Thank you," she says with a tentative smile. She sits down, facing towards him, hands in her lap.

"Privilege. Such an ironic word." He almost sounds wistful.

"How so?"

"The word comes from the Latin 'privilegium' meaning a law affecting one person, yet an entire group has adopted the term to exempt themselves from the rules that most people have to follow. The irony is that if you're in that group, your individual rights are actually curtailed by the norms of the group which includes never deviating from the expected path…without consequence."

"Then you have a choice. It just depends on how badly you want something and what you're willing to do or give up to get it."

"Are you suggesting that I cut ties with my family? That's unlikely."

"No, but it's not like you to balk at a challenge. If there's something you want for yourself that's different than what your family wants, you should own it. If they love you, they'll accept it from you. And if they don't, are you really willing to sacrifice your life to them?"

He says nothing but she thinks he's heard her. Push. "When did you decide you wanted to be a lawyer?" It's a classic debate dodge to answer a question with another question, but she'll play.

"I don't think it was ever not a possibility."

"Then it's what you've always wanted to do?" His interest seems genuine and it gives her an opportunity to talk about her mom. She warms to the topic.

"Ever since I was little and my mom took me to work. I saw how people treated her and listened to what she had to say. I knew she helped people who needed it and I liked that."

"Criminal law then?"

"She said it didn't pay as well as some other types, but money wasn't her goal. Helping people was."

"What about you? Your father tells me he hopes you study corporate."

She's suddenly wary. "You talked to my dad about it?"

"Haruhi - it's not prying."

"Like hell it's not. How did that all start anyway?" She still miffed about his conversations with her dad.

"I told you when we were at your home. Your dad is involved in your life. He does what he does because he cares. It's pretty typical for Ouran."

"Typical?"

"I imagine most students here complain because their parents keep tabs on them one way or another. And the ones with parents who practice laissez-faire, wish that they did. Odd, isn't it?"

Her irritation at him subsides. "Wait. You mean to say that your parents check up on _you_?"

"You sound surprised."

"But, sen- Kyoya, you're a great student. You're at the top of your class."

"Apparently it's not enough."

"What more do they expect?"

"My blood it seems." He tries to make a joke of it, but it falls flat.

End - Chapter 1 - Anything But Ordinary

**_A/N: Playlist at You Tube. Just insert the following after the main address in the addy bar:_**

**_/playlist?list=PLpvqHQH1_rc28CxCYDvbvo4pYbvU8s0vm_**

* * *

Anything But Ordinary - Avril Lavigne [Haruhi-centric]

Sometimes I get so weird I even freak myself out.  
I laugh myself to sleep. It's my lullaby.  
Sometimes I drive so fast just to feel the danger.  
I wanna scream. It makes me feel alive.

Is it enough to love?  
Is it enough to breathe?  
Somebody rip my heart out and leave me here to bleed.  
Is it enough to die?  
Somebody save my life.  
I'd rather be anything but ordinary, please.

To walk within the lines would make my life so boring.  
I want to know that I have been to the extreme.  
So knock me off my feet. Come on now give it to me.  
Anything to make me feel alive.

Is it enough to love?  
Is it enough to breathe?  
Somebody rip my heart out and leave me here to bleed**.**  
Is it enough to die?  
Somebody save my life.  
I'd rather be anything but ordinary, please. (2x)

Let down your defenses. Use no common sense.  
If you look you will see that this world is a beautiful accident:  
turbulent, succulent, opulent, permanent (no way).  
I wanna taste it. Don't wanna waste it away.

Sometimes I get so weird I even freak myself out.  
I laugh myself to sleep. It's my lullaby.  
Is it enough?  
Is it enough?

Is it enough to breathe?  
Somebody rip my heart out and leave me here to bleed.  
Is it enough to die?  
Somebody save my life**.**  
I'd rather be anything but ordinary, please.  
Is it enough?  
Is it enough to die?  
Somebody save my life.  
I'd rather be anything but ordinary, please.

Oh, I'd rather be anything but ordinary, please.


	2. Last First Kiss

**Chapter 2 - Last First Kiss**

He rises and crosses back to the table, pressing his hands against the flat surface. He's calm on the surface, but she hears the seethe beneath. "The meeting I was at today? It was with my parents and the headmaster. My mother and father don't think I'm applying myself to my studies with enough vigor. They're worried that I won't be accepted into my father's alma mater like my brothers."

Haruhi is still, just watching. This is someone she has never met. Like a tiger circling without rest, she feels the tension rolling off of him. Kyoya even partially unbound is intimidating.

His voice never rises in volume but his fists are now clenched against the tabletop, intensity tightly wrapped. "What they fail to take into consideration is that competition to get into said university has increased exponentially over the last few years and the scores that I possess, though surpassing my brothers', are no longer a lock for entry, even as a legacy. Therefore, I must either improve my grades or give up all extra-curricular activities."

Her voice is quiet, soothing. "I'm sure they just want the best for you."

He turns his head to regard her, composure regained. "That's what my mother says. My father just says 'with great privilege comes great responsibility.'" He looks downward again, an internal dialogue playing in his head before murmuring, "Whatever." He straightens and drops his head to one shoulder then the other to release the stress coiled there.

She wishes she could help. "Is there anything you need, senpai? I could prepare some white tea for you."

"Playing host to me? There aren't many who know my preferences."

"It's really no mystery. I check the pantry on a regular basis and we don't serve that to our guests." _Though I do pay attention._

"But you took note of it. I'm fine, thank you." He returns to the sofa and drops his knee onto it before sitting down, body facing her, an arm laid casually along the sofa's spine. "So," he says, "how do you like being a host?"

"It's interesting. It's annoying. It's…"

"Fun?" The look in his eye is conspiratorial.

She nods and can't stifle the smile that lights her face. "Yeah. Sometimes it's fun. Actually, most of the time it's fun."

"That's true." He gives a wry smile that she returns with a quirk of an eyebrow, feeling as if they share an inside joke.

"I mean, I never planned to be a host but I do have an obligation. And don't even go there," she warns with a finger pointed towards him.

"That's rude." He grabs her hand in one his. It's cooler and larger and wraps around her own. "But surely you could earn more money with a regular job."

"Maybe," she replies, extricating her hand from his, his fingers releasing hers slowly. _Huh?_ "But that wouldn't be as much - fun, as you point out."

"You've certainly taken to it quite well, though I sometimes wonder if you're suppressing your natural inclinations or feeding into them."

The unspoken question in the room looms large. "Kyoya?"

"Hmmm?"

"You don't think I'm a lesbian or something like that do you?"

His brows arch with curiosity. "Are you?"

She deliberately squeezes her eyes shut and pictures the Lobelia Academy girls twirling around the bare-chested hosts in beachwear. She smiles in spite of herself. "Nope, not happening." A deep-chested chuckle erupts beside her. She opens her eyes and finds him studying her. "I'll even admit that watching all of you interact with the girls has its charms." That garners her a pointed look.

"So you watch us?" He looks at her from over the tops of his glasses which, once again, have slipped a bit down his nose. The familiar amused smile is coupled with heightened interest in his eyes. "I didn't think you noticed."

Her jacket is uncomfortably warm and she turns her head so as not to look at him. "I'm not immune, you know."

"You've changed, Haruhi."

"Well…I have thought about what you told me and you were right. I can't be naïve about things even if I am still clueless at times."

"We know."

"But that doesn't mean I'm completely unaware or-" She stops herself before she says 'unaffected.' _You really are clueless, Haruhi, if you admit how you sometimes think of them - every one of them._ She tips her head, angling her chin towards him so she can see his face. The intensity she glimpsed before has found its way to his eyes with herself as the focus. Her mouth goes dry and she feels a subtle pulse throughout her body.

Kyoya leans in, his voice soft, non-threatening. "It's perfectly normal, Haruhi. No need to pretend otherwise."

His mixed signals are confusing. "What's going on in that mind of yours?"

"I imagine it's much the same as what's going on in yours," he says with aplomb. That tears it. His usual unflappable demeanor has always confounded her but his assumptions about her thoughts, true or not, cannot remain unaddressed.

"You think you know me?" she challenges shifting her weight onto the arm nearest him and leaning forward, shifting the balance of power as he leans back.

"No better than you know me." Something in the way he says that makes her pause. His eyelids droop with a casual glance at her mouth before returning her gaze.

She retreats. "I think we should change the subject."

"Feeling skittish?"

_Oh_, y_ou did not just say that. _"You wish. What do you want to know?" With her ire piqued, she feels a certain recklessness in countering.

"For starters, I'm curious. If you weren't a host, would you have come here as a guest?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"That's equivocal." Push.

"How can I speculate on an imaginary past?"

"True."

"My turn," she says and smiles with only a jot of mischief.

"Are we playing truth or dare?"

"Seems like."

"Fine. Ask." He sounds as if he's bored, but she wonders.

"Why don't you have a regular following? You're intelligent, handsome, have a certain je ne sais quoi."

"Stop. I'm blushing." He says it without any inflection whatsoever. _Liar._

"No you're not. You love it."

"You have found me out." She laughs then, tension broken. That's when she notices that they are leaning towards one another, their faces about a foot apart. She knows she should pull back, but she rather likes this game.

"My turn," he says.

"Yes?"

"I know you kissed that young woman, by accident of course, but have you ever kissed a boy?" She knows his question is lighthearted but she is suddenly all too aware of their proximity, their isolation and the way her heartbeat has jumped.

"U-uh, no."

"Not even Arai?"

"No," she insists.

"Would you like to?"

"Kiss Arai?" Now she's dodging _his_ question.

"You know what I mean." She has no idea how to answer, her non-response being a small sound from the back of her throat. "You're a lovely young woman, Haruhi, and the world is full of less than honorable young men."

"I don't think -"

"We both think way too much. Just answer." Then he waits, his attitude one of patience and faith that he will get the answer he seeks. His arm slides along the back of the sofa and behind her. He leans in a tiny bit more.

_Is this really happening? But if not now, when? _Her answer is nearly a question_. _"Yes."

"May I have the honor, then? And that's all it will be. No more, no less."

His face is slightly above hers and it's only now that she's aware of his scent combined with subtle spice and exotic flower. His nearness and provocative aroma are making her a little dizzy and taking a full breath not possible. Still, the rhythm and formality of his words sound like someone else she knows and she can't resist.

"You've been hanging out with Tamaki _way_ too long." A tiny bubble of laughter sounds in her chest. "But it's a good line, really." Another bubble.

He's taken aback for only a moment or two, but recovers. "Do you doubt my sincerity?"

"Hmmm. You are a host, after all. Your motives, while unclear, are not above suspicion. I'm not sure what your gain in this will be but there has to be something. Is it power, control or possession?"

Her analysis produces a smile from him. "You're going to be an excellent attorney, Haruhi. But right now, all I want to know is do you want me to kiss you?" He reaches out with his free hand to run his fingers along the side of her face until her jaw rests lightly against his palm, the two fingers that he uses to push up his glasses caressing her ear, then drawing the lobe between them applying miniscule pressure. The subtle tactile sensation ricochets through her. Her breathing has become shallow and she can feel her heightened awareness of him coursing through every fiber of her being. She's geared for fight-or-flight, but it feels so good, so right, to have him there.

He's waiting for an answer so she merely nods.

Without a change in expression he removes his hand, much to her regret, and takes off his glasses, folding in a temple with his fingers, the other by pressing it against the lapel of his jacket and tucking them inside. His face is tilted downwards for a few seconds and Haruhi wets her lips. Kyoya with glasses is easy on the eyes. Kyoya without glasses is drop dead gorgeous. He looks younger, his fine features and smooth skin still holding the roundness of youth and, though different in coloring, he could give Tamaki a run for the money. In fact, he does.

"Why do you wear glasses?" she asks on impulse, her voice nearly a whisper.

"That seems a silly question." He replies in like fashion.

"What I mean is, you could wear contacts. So why?"

"Why do you pretend to be a boy?"

Throughout their exchange, he's been edging closer.

She holds herself still, needs to ground herself in the wake of her quickly escalating pulse and breathing. With his face only inches from hers, he smiles.

"Close your eyes, Haruhi." She can feel his breath on her lips.

"But I want to see you."

His eyes crinkle. "You always keep me guessing, don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you going to talk forever or let me do this?"

"Let y-"

But he stops her with his closed lips on hers, the hand behind her head gently raking upwards against her scalp and threading through her hair at the nape of her neck, sending shivers up her back. Her eyes snap shut and though she tries to process what's happening, instinct kicks in. All she can think about is the way his lips feel on hers - soft, warm, inviting. Butterflies dance in her stomach as she feels him lean into her hands pressed against his chest. _So this is a kiss. _He follows the first with a quick second and third, each undemanding but relentless, as if he can't stop himself. A slight graze of teeth against her lower lip sends another flush through her, leaving her shaken.

"So sweet," she hears him murmur when they part. Her eyes are still closed when she feels pressure from a finger pressing between her brows. She opens her eyes and his face is just above hers.

"What are you doing?"

His hand drops to her shoulder. "You looked worried."

"I'm not worried," she argues, a bit breathless caught in the depths of his eyes.

"What were you thinking then?"

She inhales and exhales unevenly. "I was thinking it was, ummm, a very nice first kiss..or two..or three. I guess that means I'm officially on my way to becoming a woman."

"It would seem so."

She warns with mock emphasis, "And don't ask if I need help figuring it out."

"Will you let me know if you do?" His tone is serious, no trace of their earlier repartee evident.

"You'll be one of the first to know," she tosses off, trying to regain a sense of independence.

"Haruhi," he says with some firmness, his hold on her tightening ever so slightly. He regards her, seriousness fizzling in her soft gaze. "Don't change too much," he says, a command and request simultaneously.

She smiles, about to tell him that he needn't worry when she spies the shift in his expression. It's one she remembers seeing before, on a rainy night in Okinawa. _Oh._ Anxiety flutters through, a passing thought that collides with a sudden tug at her core. _Ohh. That's definitely different. _

Her cheeks color and his eyes soften in response as he drops his head towards her again. _Yes, please_. She lifts her chin. His lips hover above hers. Her lids droop and a small sound escapes her as he gradually captures her upper lip between his own and tugs…once…twice. The third time, she gets it, increasing the pressure of her lower lip against his.

A hum sounds at the back of his throat and she feels him smile against her mouth. He presses her back into the corner where they sit. The hand on her shoulder moves to encircle her waist, pulling her against him. He's gentle, but she feels the underlying strength of his grasp. The neo-synapses in her brain groove deeper as they're reinforced by the familiar feel of his lips on hers, but with a new element - the slow slide of the tip his tongue against her closed mouth. Without thought, her lips part to feel more of him, her own tongue tentative in seeking him.

_This is…better. _Her heartbeat doubles and another, warmer flush overtakes her, spreading throughout her body and pooling between her legs. _Much, much better._ His tongue laps against hers with slow unhurried movements and she thinks she could do this for hours. Her breath is uneven, her pulse thrumming. Reality around her fades further and further away as the sensation of pleasure rises within her. In her fantasies, it's mild - barely a hint of what she's now feeling.

The hand at her waist moves along her side, sliding against her breast to lightly clutch the lapel of her jacket. Through the miasma of her mind, she realizes where he's going with this. _We should stop before we do something I'll regret. _But her body has become leaden, her hand pushing weakly at him. "Kyoya, stop," she murmurs against his mouth, then turns her head to one side. He continues to place small kisses across her cheek until she feels his breath warm against her ear.

"I don't want to," he breathes.

"Please, senpai," she softly entreats while pushing at him with easy but steady pressure. He backs off, reluctance in lethargy, and releases her. With no small amount of regret she pulls herself out of his embrace and stands, her legs a bit unsteady. She faces away from him as she straightens her jacket and tie with hands that still tingle with a raised pulse. She looks back at him. He's slouched against the back of the sofa, one leg bent, the other extended. His jacket is unbuttoned, his tie askew. His affect is soft, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, lips together without any tension, his chest rising and falling with even breaths. _Eighteen, bright, beautiful and rich. _And now an indelible part of her memory that no other male can claim.

"I should go home," she says.

He opens his eyes. "Yes. That would be best. My driver can take you," he says settling his glasses back on his face and pulling himself together.

"Thank you."

She returns to the table where her belongings lay. She combs her hair with her fingers and tousles her bangs, wondering if she looks any different than when she entered the room earlier today. _Will they notice tomorrow? _She turns off the netbook and picks up her history book, depositing both into her book bag.

Kyoya travels the room, turning off lights and pushing furniture into order. Coats, scarves and gloves are put on. The outer room is too quiet without the usual sparkle and chatter that keeps it alive and they are quiet with one another. The double doors close behind them with a soft snick and they head down the hallway, footsteps muffled by plush carpeting. Kyoya summons the car by phone and it pulls up not long after they exit the building.

A light snow is falling and the winter air feels cooler than necessary against her skin so she knows she must look guilty about something. _Thank goodness for discreet help. Damn, did I really just say that? _She enters the car and Kyoya follows. They sit on opposite ends of the bench seat_,_ each into their thoughts. A piano concerto is playing on the stereo, easing the silence.

She stares out the window at the slushy roads and homeward bound commuters, but leaves a hand on the center arm rest between them. The fifteen minute drive passes without his taking it. _So, that's it, then. No more, no less._ _Just circumstance and opportunity. But it didn't feel that way. _The thought lingers.

"You can pull over here," Kyoya tells the chauffeur. "No need to get out." The car stops a discreet distance from her apartment building. He pushes the curbside door open and she slides across the seat and takes his hand. She doesn't need the assistance but she wants to touch him again, disappointed when he lets it go. _Why do I feel like crying?_

He carries her book bag as they walk side by side, indigo evening and swirling flakes surrounding them. The air smells fresh and she breathes it in to quiet her mind. They face one another at the entryway, off to one side.

"You know, much as I enjoy planning, I didn't plan this," he says. The crystalline flakes gather on the dark wool of his coat and even darker hair.

"No worries. It's between us, right?"

"Of course," he reassures and she believes he'll hold her confidence. "Thank you for listening today. Tamaki told me I should talk to you and he was right. He may be an idiot, but sometimes he's quite wise. And though we're best friends -" He steps in and kisses the top of her head saying, "I'm quite competitive and he knows it."

_Is he talking academics or...what?_ She heads towards the door, her thoughts a tangle. He calls her name and she turns. "Hmmm?"

His game face has returned and his voice is steady. "I know it's a short list, but keep me in mind, would you?" Then the ever so cool Mr. Ootori winks at her before turning and heading down the street.

She wrinkles her brow again. S_hort list? For what?_ When she realizes, her eyes grow wide and she blushes, fists curled at her sides. "Haruhi," she says aloud into the night, "You really _are_ clueless!"

End - Chapter 2 - Last First Kiss

**Author's Note: For those of you wondering about Kyoya's mom, she does exist. Check out Chapter 48 of the Manga when he says, "My parents both had to work today" at the sports tournament. And in the Anime episode "And Then Kyoya Met Him" she's seen speaking with a guest saying, "Kyoya is the most handsome" of the three Ootori sons. Only moms can say things like that in public unless you're a creepy cougar type.**

* * *

Last First Kiss - One Direction [Kyoya-centric]

Baby I, I want to know what you think when you're alone.  
Is it me? _yeah_  
Are you thinking of me? _yeah_  
Oh, we've been friends now for a while.  
Want to know that when you smile, is it me? _yeah_  
Are you thinking of me? _yeah_  
Oh, Oh...

Girl, what would you do? Would you want to stay if I were to say...

I want to be last. _yeah_  
Baby, let me be your, let me be your last first kiss.  
I want to be first. _yeah_  
Want to be the first to take it all the way like this.  
And if you only knew I want to be last. _yeah_  
Baby, let me be your last, your last first kiss.

Baby, tell me what to change.  
I'm afraid you'll run away if I tell you what I've wanted to tell you. _yeah__  
_Maybe I just got to wait. Maybe this is a mistake.  
I'm a fool. _yeah_ Baby, I'm just a fool. _yeah_  
Oh, oh...

Girl, what would you do? Would you want to stay if I were to say... (verse repeats)

I want to be last. _yeah_  
Baby, let me be your, let me be your last first kiss.  
I want to be first. _yeah_  
Want to be the first to take it all the way like this.  
And if you only knew I want to be last. _yeah_  
Baby, let me be your last, your last first kiss.


	3. Talk

**Chapter 3 - Talk**

It's been a long day for Tamaki. Being sick is no fun at all. He's alone, he's cranky and he's bored out of his mind. The books on medieval history and chivalry that delighted him as a youngster and delight him still have been read cover to cover once again and lay tumbled in with the bed linens. A single touchier glows by the door as a popular anime series plays on the big screen in one corner. Antoinette sleeps on the floor beside him. Her fluffy tail thumps every time the lump beneath the covers that is himself moves.

Mayezono Shima enters and scoffs at the untidy room. _Please just go away_, Tamaki thinks, huddled under the layers of blankets. He hears her moving about, picking up clothing from the floor, laying them across the chaise, rustling the schoolbooks and assorted sheet music casually stored there. She draws the draperies closed and comes to the side of the bed closest to him. Antoinette sits up, tail wagging.

"Do you require anything Master Tamaki?" she asks kindly, her usual tough exterior discarded in the face of her pupil's genuine distress.

"Just leave me alone…please." His voice is raspy.

"Ootori-sensei is sending over prescription medication. I'll bring it to you once it arrives."

"Whatever."

"Are you hungry?"

"God, no."

"Very well. I'll check on you a bit later then."

"Shima-san?" Tamaki croaks out as she reaches the door. The elderly woman stops. "I want my phone."

"Your father has given me strict orders to keep it from you until your fever drops. Your friends cannot be allowed to disturb you."

"But I'm feeling better," he complains sitting up, only to lay back down again, a little dizzy.

"No point in trying to fool me, Master Tamaki."

"What if I promise to play a special piece just for you once I'm back on my feet?" he cajoles. "You'd like that. The Gershwin?"

The crone has always had a soft spot for him. She heads back and pulls Tamaki's phone from an apron pocket. _Yess_. A hand snakes out from under the blankets.

"I'm taking this back when I check on you again so be sure you're done chatting by then."

"Thank you, Shima-san. You're the best."

"I know," she replies. Antoinette follows her to the door. "I'll let Miss Antoinette out and bring her back later, as well." She exits.

Tamaki props up a mound of pillows behind him and leans back, cross-legged, Kuma-bear in his lap, head hooded by a quilt that drapes around his body. First checked are text messages: A.M. includes Kyoya - 3 times; Hitachiins - twice/simultaneously; Honey and Mori - once apiece; Renge - once; Haruhi: zip. _Zip?_ A crestfallen sigh escapes him. P.M. includes Kyoya - once plus 5 more in the last hour; Hitachiins - zip; Honey and Mori - zip; Renge - zip; Haruhi - once. _Finally._

He reads her message first: **Feel better senpai.**_That's it? Well, at least she's thinking about me. _Before he can read Kyoya's messages, his personalized ID sounds. Settling back into the pillows, Tamaki responds.

To Kyoya: **hey kyo**

From Kyoya: **whats goin?**

To: **feel like shiite**

From: **sorry**

To: **how was ur mtg?**

From: **as expctd**

To: **rippd a new 1 huh?**

From: **oc**

To: **ur dad is an ass**

From: **wont argue tht**

To: **talk to Hri?**

From: **yes**

To: **&?**

From: **& what?**

To: **did it help?**

From: **a bit**

To: **told u**

From: **thx**

To: **hw in physics?**

From: **prep for comps**

To: **ok - hows Hri today?**

From: **wdym?**

To: **did dtr miss me?**

From: **didnt ask**

To: **guys there?**

From: **at some pt**

To: **wdym?**

From: **they left**

To: **u were alone w Hri?**

From: **dont freak on me**

To: **ur mtg ended at 5 - how late did u stay?**

From: **6**

To: **5 to 6? alone w Hri? **

From: **ur overreacting**

To: **not whn it comes to Hri**

From: **u said I shd trust hr more**

To: **so wht hpnd?**

To: **kyo?**

To: **pick up ur phone NOW**

Anxiety sits like a stone in his stomach as his index finger pounds the icon, scrolls and pounds again. Kyoya answers, attitude a little too nonchalant. "What is it?"

"Don't act all smooth with me. What happened?" he demands, a little panicked.

"You're not feeling well. Calm down or you'll make yourself more ill."

"How-can-you-tell-me-to-calm-down-when-you-were-al one-with-Haruhi-after-school-hours-in-the-salon-wi thout-supervision?" He inhales and exhales sharply.

"So you're going to rip me one, too?" Kyoya sounds annoyed.

"I'm sorry," he recants, only slightly calmer knowing he's jumping to conclusions. "But what kind of father would I be if I wasn't concerned that my daughter was alone with some guy in an isolated location after dark?"

"I'm hardly 'some guy.'"

"No matter. And don't lie to me." His eyes squint. "Did you try anything?"

"Define anything."

That sets him off. "Bastard. You better tell me exactly what went on today."

"Aren't you the voyeur? Seems we've been around this block before."

They have and his craziness was unjustified then, as well. "Please, Kyo," he says, mollified.

"Actually," Kyoya pauses and he's quieter. "I did want to speak with you."

Tamaki senses Kyoya's discomfort and it worries him. "Five texts in one hour suggests that."

"I wasn't expecting anyone to even be in the Music Room when I arrived, but Haruhi was there, studying. I really did not want to talk about the meeting with my parents either."

Ever concerned for his friend, he commiserates. "That bad?"

"Worse."

"What does he want now?" He hears Kyoya's deep sigh.

"I really don't know anymore. Better grades, better activities, better scores. Let's just say - an altogether better me since I'm not good enough as I am, _which_ he never fails to tell me."

"What about your mother?"

"You know my mother's afraid of my father's temper. I've always said she should have left him long ago, but I guess the perks were just too good."

"That's harsh."

"It's only the truth and she'd be the first to admit it." His disdain is clear. He pauses, then adds in a lowered voice that Tamaki has to strain to hear, "Know what the scariest thing of all is?"

"What Kyo?" Tamaki asks as gently as he can, knowing that self-revelation is not Kyoya's strong suit though he always manages to pierce the veil that his best friend hides behind. There is silence between them and Tamaki feels for him, knowing that Kyoya is battling for composure in the face of kindness, his openness a rare gift. "I'm afraid that I'll become just like him - become the person I despise."

Tamaki wishes he could convince Kyoya that this is impossible, if only Kyoya would see that. "You won't," he says simply.

"You've seen my temper."

"Yeah," he says slowly, "and I know that it's more bark than bite."

"Please, Tamaki. Not another dog analogy. Ever since you got Antoinette, you're dog obsessed." His armor has been re-donned, all traces of vulnerability tucked away having been heard and reassured of his worth by someone whose opinion he values.

"Just because you're not a dog person doesn't mean the rest of us don't appreciate man's best friend," he sulks.

"Fine."

"You should get a pet."

"You have the most amazing way with non sequiturs. You know that?"

"Maybe you just can't keep up with my brilliant conversational connections." A moment of silence ensues before he hears Kyoya laughing on the other end. "Did I say something funny?" Tamaki asks, happy that his friend is happy. If he were a dog, his tail would be wagging.

"Just shoot me."

"Wait a minute. You were telling me about Haruhi."

"Another brilliant conversational connection, I see. But yes, I was, wasn't I?"

Tamaki is calmer, but still suspicious. "Just spit it out, Ootori."

"Very well," Kyoya says on a sigh. "We were talking. One thing led to another and I kissed her." Dead silence fills the line, this time on Tamaki's side. "And that's all, Tamaki."

The words are startling to the blond, but not altogether unexpected. One doesn't spend years developing a friendship without being able to read that friend and to know that Kyoya reacts to Haruhi in a way he's never seen his friend react to anyone else, except himself. Kyoya hides it well and no one but he would be able to tell, but he can. What he doesn't understand is why it bothers him so much.

"Explain," he says off-kilter, not knowing how he feels.

"We were playing a silly game asking one another questions, me being my sardonic self and Haruhi being dead straightforward. I asked her if she'd ever kissed a boy and she said no." _Oh._

"Isn't that one of your standard lines?"

"I do not believe that anything I do is standard, Tamaki; but yes, it's a question I ask our guests on occasion to assess their savvy on such matters. Haruhi, however, is not a guest. She's a fellow host and a friend. I simply wanted to further her education."

Tamaki wonders if eye-rolling is audible. _You've got to be kidding. _"Kyoya..."

"I would think you'd be glad that Haruhi has the advantage of having male friends who can teach her how men think in relative safety." _Such bullshit._

"So how safe _is_ she with you? Daddy needs to know." It's a half-serious question that demands a serious answer.

"I would never hurt her, Tamaki. Or compromise her. I find Haruhi intriguing. I understand that you have feelings towards her, but I'm not above pursuing my own interests in the matter. I'm being upfront with you so you don't think I'm going behind your back."

Tamaki is quick to retort, "My feelings for Haruhi are strictly those of a loving father."

"If you say so and you continually do. Therefore, you won't mind if I pursue my interests…with your fatherly permission, of course."

"But you're her mother."

"So you say. I never have."

Tamaki is stuck for words, backed into a corner. He's flattered to be asked permission but also confused. He can't wrap his head around it, so he asks a more obvious question.

"So…closed lips or open?" _And please say it was a kiss on the cheek._

"Must you ask?"

"Don't be stingy. Share." _And please say it was a kiss on the cheek._

"Closed, at first."

Tamaki groans to himself, reluctant to hear but desperate to know. He covers his eyes with one hand, reluctantly asking, "Un baiser amoureux?"

"Well, it wasn't a business transaction."

_Merde._ "I knew I should have come to school today."

"You have a 104 fever, dumbass. What are you talking about?"

"I don't know. I'm upset." He gives a shuddered sigh.

"That I kissed Haruhi, someone you claim you only care about as a daughter?"

Tamaki's filters are thinner than usual due to illness though speaking before thinking is not an uncommon event. "Why did it have to be you?"

"As opposed to who? The twins? That would go well, I'm sure. Mori? Honey? Not likely. Maybe a classmate or a perfect stranger?" He waits, then asks, "Or is there someone else you had in mind?"

"I just -" Tamaki stops, considering his words. He is concerned about the impact of two hosts possibly dating, but it's less about that and more about the impact on a certain friendship. "I don't want anything to come between _us_," he admits. _At least, that._

"Neither do I. You're my best friend and I love you like a brother - Akito, not Yuuichi. If this is going to create a problem, tell me now."

_He means it, but..._ "No, Kyoya. It's fine. Haruhi has her own mind and feelings."

"I'm not worried about Haruhi. I'm wondering if _you're_ okay with it?"

"I'm not sure. But as long as it doesn't effect the Host Club and our family, I- I think we can handle it."

"Do you? Because when it comes to getting what I want, you know I don't play." _I know_.

"I guess that's the difference between us then. I always play."

"Then we agree that whatever happens, happens. We accept defeat with grace, as gentlemen."

"And friends."

"That is _always_ the bottom line, Tamaki. You know that."

"I do." _Though it's nice to hear you say it._

"Hmm. For someone who claims to have no interest in the girl other than as a friendly paternal figure, you seem awfully competitive."

_And it begins. _"Simply because I'm second in our class, Kyoya, doesn't mean I don't aim at being Number One. I just don't tackle it the same way you do."

"Think you can unseat me?"

"Hell yeah."

"That's cheeky considering I tutor you in calculus."

"And I tutor you in French."

"I study German."

"So? I still tutor you. Besides, Number Two always has the edge."

"Hmph."

"Think about it. I only have to worry about you. You have to worry about everyone. Evens up the odds, don't you think?"

"For someone who's an idiot, you really are rather sharp." Tamaki smiles, pleased with himself.

"Ahh, idiocy. My secret weapon."

"If you're telling me about it, it's not a secret now, is it?"

"Or is it?" _Gotcha_.

Kyoya stops to consider the argument, then surrenders. "Touché, mon ami."

"Kyoya?"

"What?"

"Is this going to make things weird after school?"

"Things are already weird after school or hadn't you noticed? And though I've considered the potential of a mock feud drawing more guests to the club, a genuine feud might prove to be detrimental over the long haul. So, no, things will not be any more weird than they already are as long as the Hitachiins don't find out. They will inevitably create a stir."

"You're not concerned about Mori or Honey?"

"Not in the least. Their contact with the club is limited with graduation upcoming and university thereafter."

"Okay. I'm down with that."

"Missed seeing you today." Tamaki's spirits lift at the endearment.

"Yeah, me too."

"By the way, I have a second set of notes from our mutual classes so if you need help catching up, I'll work with you."

"Maybe over the weekend." He yawns.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow. Get some sleep."

"Bye Kyo."

"Good night, Tamaki."

The phone disconnects. Tamaki stares at the screen or, to be more precise, Haruhi's number. He's tempted to call, to clarify what happened but even he knows he can't breach her privacy. _Maybe a text?_

To Haruhi: **sme. r u ok? im here 4 u**

He stops before sending, locks and turns the device off altogether, slouching down into the pillows against the headboard. _Of course she's ok. Why wouldn't she be? Kyoya is a good person who deserves happiness. Why should I object?_

His thoughts are interrupted by several raps on his bedroom door just before it opens. Antoinette snuffles at the crack and pushes it further open with her snout. Shima enters and without a word, walks over to the bedside and puts out her hand, palm up. Tamaki surrenders the device. The crone replaces it with a thermometer and pockets the phone.

She waits as Tamaki holds it in his mouth for five seconds. It beeps and he hands it back to her. "Your temperature has dropped, but not enough for you to go back to school. Swallow these, please." She waits until Tamaki has ingested the three tablets she offers and finishes off a water bottle.

"What did I just take?"

"An antibiotic with something to reduce your fever and to help you sleep. And really, Master Tamaki, the time to ask about pills is before you take them, not after." She gives him a you-should-know-better look.

"I trust you."

"You trust everyone and that is part of your problem. You need to be more discerning of people's intentions, but you continue to see only the best in them."

"What's wrong with that?"

"You must remember that a person in your position will have many around you who will falsely smile in your face then stab you in back."

"Not friends."

"One would hope not though I've seen otherwise in my lifetime."

"Can we talk-" Tamaki yawns bigger than before. "Another time, Shima-san?"

"Of course. I apologize for troubling you with this now." She lowers the volume and dims the brightness of the television but leaves it on. Tamaki doesn't like being in the dark by himself. After she leaves, Antoinette circles the carpet beside the bed several times before settling down, laying her head across her paws.

He tucks Kuma-bear into his lap and another pillow between his knees, shifting until he's comfortable. He's conscious of the way the hypnotic is penetrating his system, sending fingers of relaxation throughout his aching body. He's tired but the image of Kyoya and Haruhi in an embrace haunts him. It was clearly something they both wanted or it wouldn't have happened. His over-active imagination and romantic nature begin to spin how it might have happened despite the logical side of his brain telling him to stop. But he can't help it. Tamaki's inner theater of the mind is now in full swing….

…Kyoya is dressed as a medieval nobleman, sable lined cloak falling open to his knees over a belted and scandalously short jacquard doublet and fitted hose. He looks good though the eyeglasses and notebook detract from the overall effect. He dangles an oversized pocket watch in front of Haruhi, who looks very cute in a surcot of green velvet over an ivory brocade dress with pointed sleeves, her hair long and plaited with jewels. All at once she is powerless to resist Kyoya's advances. Organ music sounds.

Just then, Tamaki bursts into the salon-slash-castle turret in full silver armor upon a white palfrey. Sparkles float around him. "Unhand the fair maiden Haruhi, Sir Kyoya," he demands before leaning forward and lifting Haruhi onto the saddle in front of him before they clatter through the salon and jump through one of the large windows, shattering glass that rains down on the astonished Kyoya who raises his fist in the air shouting, "I challenge you to a joust a plaisance, Sir Tamaki, for the honor of the Lady Haruhi."

Theatre of the mind morphs into dream with an illogical cut to the next day's tournament. Striped round tents dot a green field, colorful banners swaying and penons fluttering in the wind. The viewing stands are full of people making crowd-like noises. The Lady Haruhi waits there with her ladies-in-waiting, Lady Renge and Lady Ranka. French tourney rules dictate that Haruhi's favors go to the victor.

Sir Kyoya waits at one end of the list and tilt, armored in dark mail and astride a chestnut destrier as his bachelors-at-arms, Sirs Kaoru and Hikaru, stand at the ready behind him, arms crossed over their chests, looking fierce -ish. Tamaki rides a black charger. He looks behind him to see if he has back up and, sure enough, there wait Sirs Honey and Mori. Tamaki gives them a decisive nod which they return. He wonders if wearing armor impedes their martial arts ability, just in case.

The chevalier d'honneur steps forward and, lo and behold, it's Sir Ritsu looking dapper in form-fitted breeches, waistcoat with slashed sleeves and a fine feathered hat. He raises his arms and points to the challengers. In his best Michael Buffer imitation he shouts, "Ladies and Gentlemen…llllet's get ready to rummmmbllle!" then jumps backwards as the horses charge towards one another.

The ground trembles from the heavy hoof beats, both knights leaning forward, lances balanced in the rests, their aim to unseat the other without causing mortal injury. The harsh clang of metal on metal vibrates the air and though contact is made by both contestants, neither is unseated.

They turn and wait to recover breath before the second run. Sir Kyoya's advantage is knowing when to strike; Sir Tamaki's in knowing where. Both can be fatal. The knights charge once more, courage unflagging as they head into danger. The clash of weapons sounds again. This time, Sir Kyoya is unseated and thrown to the ground. Sir Tamaki brings his horse to a stop and dismounts, prepared to battle on foot.

But something is amiss. Kyoya isn't moving. The twins rush to see what's wrong. Hikaru pulls Kyoya into a seated position as Kaoru drops to his knees behind the fallen knight supporting his back against his thighs. Hikaru removes Kyoya's helmet, breastplate and gauntlets. The bloody wound to his heart is visible even at a distance.

Tamaki is frozen in place, uncertain of what to do. He removes his helmet and looks over at Haruhi who watches, her expression unreadable. Mori and Honey stand close by, faces sad. He looks back to Kyoya, who winces in pain. The tourney is Tamaki's for the taking, but he cannot claim victory. Not this way. Not at Kyoya's expense. The helmet falls to the ground along with a pair of discarded gloves. Tamaki turns and runs to where Kyoya lay, dropping to his knees beside the slightly older boy. Kyoya sees him and tries to smile. "Who knew?" he says, grabbing one of Tamaki's hands in his own before closing his eyes.

"Kyoya?" he queries once, grasping the hand growing cold within his own. He leans over, his lips beside Kyoya's ear as he speaks softly, "Kyoya, don't leave me. Please. I need you. I don't want to be alone again." He pulls away and looks at the pale face of his friend. It seems too late, but perhaps there is still hope. He leans in and kisses Kyoya's forehead. The brunet lifts his face and the blond kisses his mouth. They embrace in a passionate clutch. Everything blurs as...

Tamaki's eyes fly open and he sits up with a start, groggy from the sleeping meds but lucid. He's covered in sweat, his fever broken, pajamas sticking to his skin. He runs a hand through damp hair, breathing heavily, the strangeness of dream-state still upon him in the near darkness. He reaches for a water bottle and takes a long swig, the cool liquid soothing his parched lips and throat.

He falls backwards into the pillows and stares at the ceiling. "What the hell?" he whispers to himself, troubled by the dream's violence and suggestiveness. Yet even more distressing is the fact that he's aroused, the front of his pajama pants moist with pre-cum. He peels off the garments and kicks them to the bottom of the bed, beneath the covers. _What does it mean? I do love Kyoya, but do I love him that way? Unh-can't think. Tired. _The sheets feel soft against his skin and he reaches down to grab his half-erect cock, palming himself with no intention of climax, just comfort.

The sensation of low-level pleasure is overcome by overall fatigue and Tamaki begins to drift back into sleep. And it is in that surreal space between reality and dream, when neither world holds complete sway and the subconscious is most accessible that a singular thought takes hold in his mind. Tamaki _is_ jealous. Only, it isn't of Kyoya pursuing Haruhi, but of Haruhi pursuing Kyoya.

On the floor beside him, Antoinette sighs.

End - Chapter 3 - Talk

**A/N: I realize that the manga has Tamaki using full sentences when he texts, but I'm taking liberties, as all fanfic does, and using text speak as it currently is used (and has likely changed even as you read this). ;)**

* * *

Talk - Coldplay [Kyoya & Tamaki-centric]

Oh, brother, I can't - I can't get through.  
I've been trying hard to reach you 'cause I don't know what to do.  
Oh, brother, I can't believe it's true.  
I'm so scared about the future and I want to talk to you.  
Oh, I want to talk to you.

You can take a picture of something you see.  
In the future, where will I be?  
You can climb a ladder up to the sun.  
Or write a song nobody has sung.  
Or do something that's never been done.

Are you lost or incomplete?  
Do you feel like a puzzle; you can't find your missing piece?  
Tell me, how do you feel?  
Well, I feel like they're talking in a language I don't speak and they're talking it to me.

So you take a picture of something you see.  
In the future, where will I be?  
You can climb a ladder up to the sun.  
Or write a song nobody has sung.  
Or do something that's never been done. (2x)

So you don't know where you're going and you want to talk.  
And you feel like you're going where you've been before.  
You'll tell anyone who'll listen but you feel ignored.  
And nothing's really making any sense at all.

Let's talk. (4x)


	4. Look But Don't Touch

**Chapter 4 - Look But Don't Touch**

Snow has been falling on and off for the last three days, mounting in height until the entire Ouran campus was shut down - a rarity for both the school and the City of Tokyo. Today is the first day back in full session and not even five minutes after she's stepped out of bed, she hears Tamaki's text ID. _Why, oh why, did I ever tell him what time I wake up in the morning?_ She checks the message:

**From Tamaki:** Gd Mrng, Prncess! Hope u slpt well. Pls cm 2 HC 2day preprd to dress 4 fun n th gr8 outdrs.

_Really, Tamaki?_ Haruhi loved playing in the snow as a little girl, but nowadays it holds less appeal. She rummages through her dresser for suitable clothing and finds she really doesn't have much in the way of outdoor gear. _It'll have to do._ The Hitachiins always seem to bring extra garments anyway, created no doubt, especially for the club. _Maybe I should start asking if I can keep the wardrobe. _She thinks about some of the crazier cosplay outfits she's had to wear throughout her first host year. _Then again, maybe not._

She packs her things into a duffel bag and heads to school. From her window seat on the public bus, Haruhi notices the wet streets, the mounds of dirty snow piled along the curbsides and the ice-crusted store signs that mark winter urban life. She disembarks two blocks from campus and hikes the rest of the way.

As she approaches Ouran, she notices a strange phenomenon: the walks are completely clean and dry, flanked by razor-edged snow that is pristine. The grassy patches sport foot high even accumulations and every tree and shrub is dusted to perfection with fluffy tufts of white that sparkle in the weak sunlight. To top everything off, huge glassy icicles hang from every building's eaves.

_No wonder tuition is ridiculous._

She gets to her first class and is promptly accosted by the twins.

"Was it terrible for you, Haruhi?" Hikaru asks.

"We heard that the city was immobilized for two days. We wondered if you had enough to eat," Kaoru adds.

"You do remember where I live. It's not Siberia." Their chat is curtailed by class being called to order.

They continue to pester her at lunch, trying to feed her with their fingers, offering her tasty treats from their expensively stocked o-bento boxes, and otherwise making themselves annoying. They're sweet and mischievous and up to something.

She arrives at the salon at precisely 3:15 and heads to the dressing room. The guests have been instructed to arrive at four. She looks for the duffel bag she left here earlier in the day, but it's gone. She checks throughout the prep room, but it's nowhere to be seen. _Now what?_

The hosts arrive, singly or in pairs. They're boisterous when they first enter, letting off steam after being self-controlled in class all day. She's gotten used to the shouting and swearing they never show their guests and the horseplay that borders on demonic possession. She heads into the outer room where, of course, Honey and Mori are squaring off as Kyoya referees. Tamaki is lounging on a sofa playing with his Smartphone. The twins are not around…until they are.

"We're here!" they announce together, entering with garment bags slung over their shoulders.

"What's in the bags?" Tamaki asks, sitting upright.

"A surprise for Haruhi," Hikaru says, though he sounds somewhat smug. Her blood runs cold. _Oh no. Better head this off right now._

She marches up to them. "You were the ones who stole my duffel, weren't you?"

"A duffel?" Hikaru repeats. "Kaoru, do you recall seeing a duffel bag anywhere?"

"Not me," Kaoru replies, looking innocent.

"Just tell me where it is and nobody gets hurt," she threatens pinning Kaoru with her eyes, knowing he'll relent far sooner than his brother.

A low murmur runs through the room.

"Haruhi, we just wanted to make sure you had a nice outfit for today," Kaoru admits. "We've been good so we took some things from our mother's showroom."

"Just a few," Hikaru says. "You promised, remember? You'll look cute."

"I don't need to look cute."

"But of course you do," Tamaki intervenes, sauntering over to them. "You are already amazingly cute, Haruhi, but even a peacock needs plumage. Just go inside and try on what the twins have brought for you. We'll give you an honest opinion."

"You know we won't stop bugging you until you do, Haruhi," Kaoru warns.

"Oh, alright," she surrenders. _The things I do for friends._ She takes the two garment bags and heads into the dressing area, pulling the curtain shut.

She unzips the first bag. _Wait a minute. Is this a dress or a sweater? _She unzips the second bag and groans. _They've got to be kidding. _Three months ago, Haruhi made a deal with the twins: they keep their hands to themselves as much as possible for a month and she'll try on an outfit from their mother's collection. She never pays attention to what they bring but, lately, their choices seem a bit much although the pieces are always well-made and to her proportions. She slips on the footwear, then notices the accessories at the bottom of the bag. She looks at herself in the mirror and doesn't recognize the person she sees. "I am not wearing this!" she shouts.

"Show us!" shout back the twins.

"Haru-chan, we want to see how cute you look," Honey entices.

"Of course she looks cute," Tamaki says. "She always does. Haruhi is the essence of cute. She is-" He stops short, his chin dropping as Haruhi emerges into the room.

The boyish girl has matured a bit in the last year. She not only has a figure, but nacent curves. The charcoal knit sweater dress caresses her hips, has long sleeves, a turtleneck and fits like a glove. Red intarsia hearts and white ribbons rise and fall across small but definitely-there breasts. Beneath the mini are form-fitted leggings that give the appearance of skin as they disappear into thigh-high black leather boots. On her head is a crimson red mink beret and a pair of sleek black-wire sunglasses.

"Can we take you home with us, please?" Hikaru begs.

"I second," Kaoru agrees.

"Haru-chan, you look amazing," Honey compliments.

"Hnn-nnn," says Mori adding an extra syllable to his vocabulary.

Tamaki is nearly as red as Haruhi's beret and Kyoya - he's poised mid-keystroke, head turned away from the net book and staring, pushing up his glasses and holding them in place so they don't slip and he can cover his expression, as well.

"I am not wearing this," Haruhi says in a voice she means to sound definitive. It does, but in quite a different way.

Tamaki blushes deeper, his hand over his mouth. Honey and Mori look away. The twins chuckle and melt into one another and Kyoya slumps back in his chair, fingers slipping from the keyboard altogether. Haruhi looks from one to the other, a little confused. It isn't until she sees Kyoya's expression that she sees herself as he sees her - the image in the mirror that she didn't recognize. _That girl was what the guys would call 'hot.' And then I suggested… "_Ohhhh…" she cries and flees. Five heads tip to the side to watch Haruhi as she retreats, revealing new curves. Just not Tamaki's, who glowers at the rest of them.

She sits on the small chair in the dressing area, head in her hands, mortified. And angry - with the twins and with herself. She hears the guests arriving. _I will get even, Hitachiins._ Her duffel bag somehow finds itself just outside the curtain and she grabs it, exchanging the haute couture for a plain pair of jeans, black cotton turtleneck and grey hoodie. Thick socks and trek boots finish things. And, of course, the Ouran overcoat and thick scarf that everyone wears. Looking in the mirror, she recognizes herself again and sighs.

She emerges and her regulars swarm about her, making her feel better. Everyone is in high spirits and they head en masse outdoors. Unlike the paved areas, the maze is left relatively natural, snow tramped down by foot. Twilight is falling but floodlights illuminate, casting strong shadows in the boxwoods and flowerless rose shrubs. Teams are decided and staging areas chosen. Haruhi and the girls start amassing snowballs. The guests are non-targets except for gentle lobs just so the defending host can 1) defend them and 2) brush snow romantically off of them. There's also opportunities for sharing scarves and pockets for warming hands.

Haruhi's team is pretty good. All the girls have brothers and have learned the fine art of creating a hard-packed snowball. They win a few rounds, according to referee Kyoya, naturally, who declines participation and prohibits any hits to himself with a wag of his index finger when Mori lands one on his hip. Organized mayhem quickly escalates to general mayhem as the twins decide that Tamaki is their one and only target, leading Mori and Honey into the fray until the blond is on the ground being pelted with continuous snowballs from every participant from every angle.

Haruhi feels badly about that and refuses to join in. She sees Kyoya standing at the entrance to the maze. Their exchanges over the last few weeks have been cordial, but she always senses an undercurrent. She walks over and stands beside him, watching the melee ongoing among the shrubbery. Tamaki has escaped and now everyone is chasing everyone. "He's difficult to ignore, isn't he?"

"Spontaneous to a fault," Kyoya responds, smiling as he watches the scene.

"What about you, senpai? Are you never spontaneous?"

"I think you know better than that." He doesn't look at her. _Okay, then._

With Kyoya deliberately keeping her at a distance, Haruhi quietly steps back and gathers a handful of snow, cupping it between her gloved hands to create a solid mass just as her dad taught her years ago. She then executes "The Fujioka." Coming up behind Kyoya, she points to the far side of the maze where people dart in and out of sight and shouts, "Look at that!" When Kyoya's attention is focused on where she's pointed, she steps in and shoves the snowball down the front of his coat and runs.

"Haruhi!" he yells. She dashes towards the others, but only gains a few yards before being grabbed by the back of her coat, causing both of them to stumble onto the snowy ground. She scrabbles to escape, but Kyoya catches her. She rolls to face him as he kneels over her, pinning her lightly with one hand. She doesn't resist, but just looks at him and the huge fistful of snow he has in his other hand. _He won't do it._ But he does. The snow is mashed on her head. She sputters and haphazardly grabs snow with her hands, throwing it back at him in wild arcs. He deflects with one hand while scooping more snow with the other. Haruhi holds up both hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Do you want this?" he asks, a devious smile on his face as he hovers over her.

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

The devious smile turns playful. "To what else might you be referring?" _Snarky, as usual, but I'll play._

"To what else do you want me to refer?" He considers her before speaking again.

"It would seem we are ever engaged in a parry of words."

"I call it smart flirting," she says simply.

"So do I."

"Is it working?"

"I would have to concede."

"Good," she says sotto voce before inhaling and exhaling fully. They remain in place, non-verbal communication the best method to trigger the rush of body memory of their recent encounter.

"Haruhi," Kyoya begins. "Would you…"

"Hey, Kyoya!" Tamaki yells, trotting towards them, covered in snow from head to toe. He slows as he nears, looking from one to the other. Haruhi realizes that both she and Kyoya are in postures that are not typical for them. _Busted for the second time today._ Kyoya stands and extends a hand towards her. She takes it and he pulls her to her feet, dusting snow from her hair and coat. Only it's host to host and that makes it different, especially when she looks up into his eyes and sees humor there. _Now there's something I've never noticed before._

"Haruhi," Tamaki says, stepping in between them. "Is this chump bothering you?" he asks with a thumb aimed at Kyoya.

"I can handle it," she replies with a furtive glance at the dark-haired young man whose face is, once again, an unreadable mask. Tamaki's eyes again flick from her to Kyoya and back, a look of consternation coming over him.

Kyoya clears his throat. "I believe it's time to return inside, Tamaki. Our guests must be cold and could use a cup of hot cocoa, don't you think?"

Tamaki is, at once, conscious of his princely role. "Oh, of course." He heads back into the maze, calling for everyone to join him. They head back, Haruhi walking quietly beside Kyoya, hoping he'll finish the question he began earlier, though he doesn't.

Coats and scarves and gloves drip from the temporary clothing rack set up in one corner of the salon. The hosts are busy serving hot cocoa and warming cold hands between their own. The guests are tired but happy, their appetites temporarily quelled in more ways than one.

Haruhi sits among three of her regulars who are engrossed in a conversation about the Edo era and whether or not their favorite anime character is a good or a bad person because he's killed so many men as a paid assassin.

"What do you think, Haru-kun?" asks Chiyo her brown eyes bright and fixed on the _natural_ host.

"I suppose I'd have to say that it depends on the situation. One shouldn't judge a book by its cover, after all." She's facing the table where Honey-senpei sits within earshot, being fed strawberries by hand by his favorite ladies. The pint-sized blond turns his heard towards her and smiles, clearly amused by the irony of her statement.

Haruhi shrugs her shoulders. Mariko raises the issue of what makes an honorable life and Takara argues that sometimes crossing a line is a necessary part of growing up.

"But how old do you think a person should be before crossing a line?" Chiyo throws out, always the one to push their dialogue to new ground.

"For what?" Mariko queries.

"New experiences of the heart."

"You mean…love?"

"Love and sex," Takara adds definitively, causing the other girls to blush and shush her.

"Don't say such things, Takara," Mariko chastises.

"Why not? It's the 21st century."

Chiyo explains, as if she's a million years older than the Second Year instead of just one, "Well, yes, but you don't talk about it in mixed company" she says with a nod of her head towards Haruhi.

Takara replies, "It's only Haru-kun. Honestly," she says turning towards said namesake, "I feel like I can tell you anything and you just… understand." _If you only knew why._

"I do my best," Haruhi demurs.

"So what do you think?" Takara presses as all the girls stare at Haruhi, waiting. Takara and Mariko are Second Years, Chiyo a Third. They're all infatuated with Haruhi and have made "him" their pet project, convinced that the First Year host is in need of education about love. They've already slipped detailed pencil diagrams of female anatomy into his pocket with arrows and modest explanations, along with love poems and notes.

Haruhi, thus far, has not initiated any kind of physical contact with any guest despite Tamaki's recommendation to the contrary. "An innocent hug or a chaste kiss now and again is considered de rigueur," he's told her. She's just not so inclined which leads her to wonder how the other hosts view their flirtations. She glances to where Kyoya stands to one side of the floor, notebook in hand, pen moving steadily. As if on cue, he looks up and their eyes meet. She doesn't look away as she might have in the past, and neither does he. _Such a puzzle._

"…a person be before losing their virginity?" Chiyo is asking.

"Huh?" Haruhi replies, refocusing on the girls.

"Haru-kun, you're not paying attention and this is important," Mariko chides.

"Sorry. How old? Ummmm, I think it's an individual decision, but you should feel ready for it."

"Right," Takara agrees. "So it doesn't matter if you're fifteen or twenty. If you're ready, you're ready."

"Fifteen is pretty young," Haruhi says.

"How old are you, Haru-kun?" asks Chiyo in a teasing manner.

"Fifteen," she admits with a small laugh, "though I'll be sixteen in a week or so."

"Oh my gosh," Mariko bubbles. "Really? Oh Haru-kun, when?"

Takara gushes, "We'll make something special for you that day!"

"It's February 4th," Haruhi says all at once wishing she hadn't said anything. _Too late now._

Chiyo holds up a hand. "Ladies, we have a week to prepare and," she adds to Haruhi, "being falsely modest and refusing us our enjoyment would go against what Host Club is all about. We are your guests, after all." Haruhi sighs.

Kyoya sounds the singing bowl tone that announces the end of session and the guests leave. Haruhi enters the prep room and grabs the big tray, returning to the outer room to stack china and silverware until she can't carry any more. She stands at the prep sink and washes every item. She's nearly done when she feels _them_ enter and stand behind her.

"Haruhi," Tamaki starts.

"Don't say it," she warns.

"What do you mean don't say it? How can you possibly think that we, your special family, could ignore the fact that your birthday is about to occur and you haven't given a clue as to what we can do to celebrate or to give you as a gift. As your father, I demand an explanation."

Haruhi dries her hands on the bottom of her apron and turns, pressing her back against the countertop as she regards the semi-circle in front of her. "It's not necessary to do anything at all, senpai. I don't need it and I don't want it. Maybe it's a big deal for you but it's never been for me and that's just fine. Please don't fuss about it." She removes the apron and walks forward.

"But, but-" Tamaki protests as she approaches. She turns when she reaches him, looking up into his face.

"I'm warning you," she insists pressing a finger into his chest with each following word. "No. Fuss." She gathers her things together, bids them goodnight and leaves.

"Boss," Hikaru starts once she's gone. "What are we going to do?"

"We can't ignore Haruhi's birthday," Kaoru follows.

"Haru-chan's going to be sixteen," Honey states.

The twins look at one another with sudden realization. "She's not off limits!" Hikaru says to his twin.

"Hnnn," Mori adds.

Tamaki demands, "What are you talking about?"

Karou explains. "It's a fact. Sixteen is generally accepted as the average age for inter-adolescent first sex worldwide."

Hikaru hangs his arm around his brother's neck and coos into his ear, "Except for us." Kaoru strokes his brother's cheek before they turn to regard their blond leader who is staring at them with a look of horror and disbelief.

"And where exactly is that a fact, Kaoru?" Kyoya enters the conversation at the mention of statistical data and having gauged that Tamaki's blood pressure is approaching dangerous levels.

"The internet," they answer.

"Of course. And while there is a great deal of information regarding sex online, much of it is raw data or limited data or pre-digested data making valid conclusions drawn from such data suspect at best."

"You're so sexy, Kyoya," Hikaru jibes.

"Born this way," the brunet retorts without affect.

"Checkin' out raw data, huh?" Kaoru grins with a sideways glance at the older boy. Kyoya elegantly flips the bird at him.

"Any time," comes the joint response. He groans.

"Nobody touches Haru-chan!" Honey interrupts in a firm voice and they all stare at him. He stands with his hands on his hips, Mori directly behind him in similar posture. They both look quite serious. Kyoya pushes back his glasses and says nothing.

"We're just kidding," Kaoru states.

"We are?" Hikaru turns to his twin, disappointment on his face.

"Two's company…" Kaoru begins.

"But three's more fun," Hikaru finishes. Kaoru slaps his cheek gently.

"I love it when you're rough."

Kaoru sighs. "Time to go home."

While this exchange is ongoing, Tamaki has retreated into a corner, crouched into a ball of melancholy.

Honey asks, "Is he going to be alright?"

"Well," Kyoya says tipping his head towards the blond, "I don't think Tamaki has ever really given much thought to Haruhi's age seeing her, as he does, as a child in need of protection. However," he pauses and glares at the twins, "And despite whatever perverse notions the _Hitachiins_ may harbor, sixteen is a significant rite of passage for many teens in many ways. We would indeed be remiss if we didn't do something to celebrate such an auspicious occasion."

"But Haru-chan said no fuss," Honey reminds.

"No fuss to Haruhi may simply mean no extravagant celebration from us. However, I've already spoken to Fujioka-san and he's all about celebrating."

Honey throws Usa-chan into the air and catches it several times. "Celebrate! Celebrate!"

"So what do we do?" the twins ask, chastened by Honey and Mori's disapproval and Kyoya's ire.

"I will obtain details from Fujioka-san and keep you apprised. In the meanwhile, it's not for me to say that you cannot get her a gift to honor her special day."

The twins start discussing immediately, arms wrapped around one another's shoulders. "Massive mp3 downloads on us…a stereo system with headphones…a day spent with us buying it." They high five on the last idea and shout, "Brilliant!"

Kyoya shakes his head with a soft grunt, glancing over at Tamaki, still crouched in the corner tracing something on the floor with his finger. He moves closer and notices that it's a heart - over and over and over. Honey and Mori don coats, say goodbye and leave followed by the twins. Kyoya settles on a chair close to his friend and watches the sulk for a minute.

"Are you going to pout all night?"

"This is bad, Kyoya," Tamaki says without looking up.

"What is? Haruhi turning sixteen?"

"No."

"Then what?"

The blond lifts his eyes, not even knowing where to begin.

End - Chapter 4 - Look But Don't Touch

**A/N: Happy Birthday, Haruhi! **

* * *

Look But Don't Touch - Juliet Shatkin [Haruhi-centric]

I know you're watching when you see me walking down the hall.  
Don't get to close to me 'cause, baby boy, I'll make you fall.  
The bell rings at a quarter to four and everybody comes back for more.  
I know I'm driving you totally insane, but boys you got to hear what I'm saying.

You can look, but don't touch. (2x)  
You know you're asking for too much, so you can look but, boy, you can't touch.

I see you staring as I'm rolling up and down the block.  
Your jaw dropping on the floor 'cause baby you're in shock.  
I don't mind if you think I'm cute, but didn't your mama teach you not to be rude?  
I don't know exactly what you expect if you're not giving up no respect.

You can look, but don't touch. (2x)  
You know you're asking for too much, so you can look but, boy, you can't touch.

I hear you talking when I'm walking down the hallway.  
Just keep your comments to yourself and we'll be okay.  
I'm not the kind of girl that needs your attention  
'cause certain things are better off not mentioned.

You can look, but don't touch. (Refrain repeat to end)  
You know you're asking for too much, so you can look but, boy, you can't touch.


	5. Choke

**Chapter 5 - Choke**

A single question burns in Tamaki's brain. _Is this how it feels to be in love for real?_ Being in love for fun is his everyday hobby, but this is different. The night of the first dream was followed by others in steady succession. Always about Kyoya. Always provocative. He's happy, scared, absent-minded, worried and exhausted from thinking, thinking, thinking; to say nothing of satisfying his needs just as often. He's just about made up his mind to stifle it all, but Kyoya is waiting patiently for an answer to a legitimate question. _Think, Tamaki. Haruhi's birthday must be top priority. Backpedaling is GO!_

He stands and squares his shoulders, pulling himself together in a princely fashion. "What's bad" he finally says bolstered by his commitment to Haruhi, "is one: I didn't realize her birthday was so close; two: I haven't done a single thing to prepare and three:" His voice quivers a bit. "My little girl is growing up and I don't think I can handle it." _Especially the idea of her being with you and you being with her._

Kyoya shakes his head slowly at his friend. "Give me your phone," he demands quietly.

"Why?"

"Just _give_ it to me, please." Tamaki surrenders it and Kyoya quickly punches in some data and hands it back. "If you wish to speak with Haruhi's father, his number is now in your contacts."

The blond looks at the brunet with fearful eyes. "He doesn't like me. He'll hang up."

"Only if you act like an idiot. Just call the man. And if you need some liquid courage, I can accommodate."

"Kirin or Asahi?

"Kirin - your favorite."

"Get the car," Tamaki agrees thinking only slightly ahead.

They walk side by side, Tamaki's brain in overdrive. _Haruhi is growing up._ And from the way Kyoya's eyes lit up when he saw her in that dress, she might just as well have been a lovely stack of gold bearer bonds. _They watch each other when the other isn't looking and worse than that, when their eyes did meet today... _He melted wishing Kyoya looked at him that way. _I can't be the only one who sees it, but I'm the only one upset by it. I'm an awful person. I should be happy for them._

Outside, it's frigid and dark though still early evening. It's Friday and campus has emptied for the weekend. Kyoya's head is bent, breathing through layers of scarf as he checks his Nikkei app. Tamaki takes a quick peek at the scrolling numbers and symbols. _Buying and selling, bulls and bears. I just don't get it. Chopin, Beethoven - that makes sense. _He turns and walks a few feet away, feet kicking at the snow piled against the stairs, gloved hands dusting it off the branches of a nearby pine tree then watching it with delight as it flutters in glittery waves under the school's xenon floodlights.

S_hould I tell him? He'll understand. What do you think, Kyo? Oh, right. You-can't-tell-me-how-to-tell-you-what-I-can't-tel l-you-but-want-to-tell-you… _He sighs aloud, causing Kyoya to look up and over at him, then back to his phone._ Which is that your probably-gay best friend is falling in love with you while you fall in love with the girl __your__ best friend adores, though only as a friend. _He'll definitely need liquid courage for the ride.

The Ootori limo pulls up and they get in, messenger bags shoved onto the rear deck. Kyoya leans forward and tells his chauffeur, "Just drive." He unravels his scarf and untoggles his duffel coat in the heated car, sloughing both before pulling two beers from the cooler and handing one to Tamaki. They crack them open, swap bottles, take a sip and swap bottles again. Tamaki finishes his off in short order, hastening his buzz. Kyoya lingers, maintaining a slippery hold on the glass neck and his faculties as he sinks into his own intoxication.

"Have another," Kyoya says. "You look like you need it. And take off your coat before you melt."

Hearing Kyoya ask him to take off anything sends a spark arcing through him. Tamaki doesn't argue, doffing his coat and opening another bottle. He takes a long swallow. He's easily unhinged, but he does need it. His breath is already a little shallow and his pulse has kicked up a notch. Kyoya turns on the music system, preset to a channel that plays what he likes. He slouches back into the seat, staring out the window, bottle neck between his fingers, base resting on his thigh.

The limo enters the highway headed towards Mt. Fuji though they'll loop back at some point. They do this on Fridays only, letting the stress of school, family, friends and enemies slip away via the amber brew and nothing more. Tamaki already feels light-headed, but is grateful for the way it quiets the chatter in his head. Kyoya sits in a meditative state, tranquility enhanced by alcohol.

Under cover of shadow, Tamaki admires Kyoya's patrician features, the ikemen-without-trying air he carries, and his intelligence which often scares people, but which Tamaki finds reassuring. The brunet's thoughts are elsewhere but then he sees a subtle smile play across his mouth. "You're thinking about Haruhi, aren't you?"

Kyoya's head turns towards him. "Perhaps."

"C'mon, Kyo. Are you thinking about her?"

"Yes, actually."

"You've had girlfriends before." _And I haven't, only now I know why it never mattered._

Kyoya chuffs and lifts his bottle to his mouth. Tamaki watches in fascination the way his lips caress the bottle's rim, liquid sliding against them leaving a trace of moisture there as he finishes it off and drops his hand. Tamaki's tongue touches his own upper lip wanting to taste him, the tug at his groin eliciting a soft sound at the back of his throat. Kyoya stows the empty and leans back once more, wrists crossed over one another at the top of his head as he stares ahead. "Rumi was just a crush in middle school." He pauses, remembering. "Now, Momiji. She was crazy."

"Was that the college girl?"

"Total predator." Kyoya's self-satisfied expression tells Tamaki that, yeah, he learned a lot from her.

"So…did you?"

Kyoya leans towards him and lowers his voice so the driver doesn't hear him, "I woulda told you, just as you'll tell me when you're not a virgin anymore." Tamaki hears the subtle loosening of diction and open disclosure signaling that Kyoya has begun to let his guard down.

"W-what makes you think still I'm a virgin?"

"You woulda said something by now." _Probably, but it's cheeky to say so._

"You think I can't keep a secret?"

"Oh, you can keep a secret, Tam, just not from me." _Oh really?_

"Ditto," Tamaki remarks with impudence.

"Ditto?" Kyoya mimics and reaches over with his free hand to push at Tamaki's shoulder, except his aim is skewed so his hand misses the shoulder and lands on Tamaki's upper arm. It's a platonic move, but Tamaki sits up straighter, surprised by the way the easy contact sends a subtle thrill through him. Everything is different now.

"Are you going to do this?" Kyoya asks, pulling his hand away to push at his glasses. Tamaki tics at the question. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle. Are you going to call Fujioka-san? That's why we're here, isn't it?"

"Oh," Tamaki says as if he'd forgotten. "Right." Tamaki pulls his phone from his blazer pocket.

"Maybe you should sit back?" Kyoya suggests in a relaxed voice. "I'll coach you. Just play it off, Tamaki. You know how to do that." Tamaki hears the unintended double-entendre; feels the way it makes him twitch.

"And put it on speaker so I can hear, too." Tamaki dials the number with one hand as Kyoya rolls up the privacy divider and deadens the music. The phone's ringing fills the space between them.

"Hul-lo-o!" Ranka's voice is instantly recognizable.

"Fujioka-san? This is Suoh Tamaki." _Okay now, keep it together._

"Oh." Ranka's disappointment is clear. "What do _you_ want?" Tamaki looks at Kyoya, who leans forward and presses him with his eyes.

"I was hoping we could discuss Haruhi's birthday."

"Really?" Ranka's interest is piqued.

"Yes…sir." Kyoya nods at him.

"Hmmm. I appreciate your interest but everything's been arranged. After all, it is my little Haruhi's birthday." Ranka's conversational style is a little like a song half-sung - lots of musical tones but no melody. Tamaki cringes every now and again, the irregular pitches grating on his trained musical ears, but no matter.

"Yes, sir. May I-"

"And nothing is too good for my princess." The word perks up Tamaki's ears. _Maybe we actually have something in common?_

"Y-yes, sir. If I-" Kyoya puts up two fists in front of himself with a grimace, goading Tamaki to get tough.

"She is such a wonderful daughter - so sweet, so conscientious."

"Fujioka-san!" Tamaki says with more force than intended. Kyoya gives a thumbs up.

"Oh my. Whatever is wrong?"

"Fujioka-san," he begins again in a normal tone of voice, pronouncing his words with care. "I would like to help you plan any party you're considering."

"Really? Do you have skill in this area?"

"My dear sir, if there's one thing that Suoh Tamaki knows, it's how to party." Kyoya rolls his eyes and groans.

"Say again?"

"I mean- No, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. Really, I didn't." Tamaki's panic is palpable and he stares blindly into space.

"I know what you meant, Tamaki," the older man admits. The blond sighs. Kyoya just smiles, somewhat fondly, at the befuddled boy. "And I know it's only her sixteenth and not her eighteenth, but when Kyoya suggested it, I thought it was a wonderful idea. We don't usually celebrate, but I always want to."

"Kyoya-san?" Tamaki looks back at his friend who returns a steady gaze.

"Yes. This party is his idea and we've been planning for awhile now."

Tamaki shakes his head, eyes narrowing at Kyoya. "He never said…" Kyoya grabs the half-full bottle in Tamaki's hand, downs it and stows the empty with the other two.

"I _could_ use help with entertainment," Ranka admits.

"I can help with that."

"And just what sort of entertainment are you thinking about? I hope you're not a pervert planning for some half-naked person to appear."

Tamaki does a double take and Kyoya finally loses it, laughing behind his hand so Ranka doesn't hear. They are both nicely buzzed, having skipped dinner before hitting the road. Tamaki, however, is too nervous to enjoy the madness.

"Not at all. We're only high school students. But I wouldn't anyway."

"Because, rest assured, Mr. Good-Looks-with-Money-but-an-Idiot, I do not tolerate such decadence." Tamaki is wounded and pouting, wondering if Ranka realizes that most people would consider a transvestite decadent, too.

"I understand. What I'm suggesting is a singer." Tamaki mentions the name of an up and coming vocalist. Kyoya looks impressed.

"Is that possible?" Ranka sounds excited.

"He's my cousin on my father's side. It would be my pleasure to make inquiries."

"I had no idea. Oh, Tamaki. Haruhi would love it."

"Thank you, Fujioka-san. I'll be in touch soon."

"Wonderful. Ta ta for now," Ranka sing-songs before disconnecting.

Tamaki looks over at his friend, who has sat back but still chuckles to himself. "Happy?" he asks, putting the phone in his inside blazer pocket.

Kyoya speaks at irregular intervals through soft laughter. "Tamaki...I applaud you for having a mouth _big_ enough to fit _several_ feet into… It's rather charming, actually...amusing as hell."

"For you," Tamaki says, a little miffed but only a little. "Guess it was pretty funny, but," he stops and downshifts into a more serious attitude. "Jus' when were you gonna to tell me that you had this party queued up and ready to play, Kyoya?"

"I don't recall us agreeing to fill one another in on tactics." Push.

"Is that what this party is? A tactic to win Haruhi?"

"You make it sound so calculated."

"Isn't it?"

"You really must get over your naïve attitude 'bout people's intentions. They're almost always, if not always, self-serving."

"What if I don't wanna believe that?" _'Cause I don't._

"Then, my friend, you are screwed. It's one thing for a commoner to preach the milk of human kindness. It's quite another for us." Kyoya gives him a knowing look and opens the fourth bottle. "Split?"

"Sure," he agrees, disregarding his own relatively impaired judgment and beginning to feel that a slightly inebriated Kyoya might hear things differently than a stone cold sober one. Tamaki crooks his elbow along the back of the bench they share, head leaning into his hand. "I don't see the difference."

They've had many conversations like this, sharing ideas and thoughts while sober and not. It's one of Kyoya's favorite things to do and he settles against the seat and begins gesturing with his hands, which means he's not. As they converse, they pass the bottle between them, taking sips and talking in earnest. Previous topics have ranged from politics to astrology and everything in between.

"Think of it this way," starts Kyoya. "The average person goes through life pretty much anonymously. No undue attention paid to anything they do 'cause it doesn't have great inpact - inpact? No- immpact on the world in general. We," he says holding up one finger, "we, on the other hand, are held under scrutiny by _everyone_," his finger swishes in front of Tamaki's face, "because _we_ are expected to have a great immpact. Might as well just put a big bulls-eye on our backs 'cause everyone is gunning for us." He shapes his fingers like a gun.

"I disagree. Seems to me that what you put out in the world is what you get back."

"You would say that, but who do you think is going to survive in the real world outside of Ouran? We play, we learn, we fight - but it's always contained." He starts counting off on his fingers. "We're security-cammed, watch-dogged, body-guarded, phone-tapped, you name it. We live in a bubble, Tam, and there are billions of people who would love to see it pop." He nods once.

"That's pretty cynical."

"Because," Kyoya says slapping a palm against his chest, "I am a modern cynic - not a classical one. I choose to maintain wealth and power, not give it away as Diogenes the Dog-man did, though I do like his idea of 'I bite my friends to save them.'"

Tamaki chortles, "Kyoya - you made a dog joke."

"So I did," he smiles, stowing the now empty bottle with the others.

"And you think everyone will betray you in the end?" _Really?_

Kyoya's hands drop into his lap with a deep sigh. "Everyone, somehow. But at least I know it and it doesn't get in the way of my goals in life. If I choose to be ethical and treat others with care, it's a _conscious choice_; not because I believe I'll be rewarded in some hereafter or because society tells me that's the way I'm supposed to behave."

"And how is that different than being good to people 'cause you _do_ think it's the right thing to do or maybe, you just like them?"

"It's not the same."

"The _result_ is the same."

Kyoya gets stuck on that which is how Tamaki usually holds up his end of any argument. Complexity versus simplicity. End result - draw.

The brunet's eyes squint a bit as he says, "Y'know, Haruhi said somethin' like that to me a while ago."

"That's my girl."

"She even said that you and I are more alike than different, though I begged to differ."

"You always try to make people think you're high logic, low emotion; but I know you, Kyoya." _Better than most._

"Whadya know?"

"I know that, in the end and no matter _why_ you do it, you do right by people when you believe in them. Justice without bullshit."

"I believe in life without bullshit. So why am I a host, again?" Tamaki laughs at his friend's deadpan question. "I'm serious, Tamaki. Being a host is total bullshit, so why do I do it?"

"It's not bullshit, Mom," Tamaki counters. He places his hand over his heart. "It is creating a pocket of civility in an uncivilized world."

"Well, that's a specious argument, but I'll let it slide 'cause the world _is_ uncivilized."

"Everyone betrays everyone, then?" Tamaki is suddenly serious, sad for his friend's current view of the world.

Kyoya shrugs. "A little white lie, an omission of truth, a bending of the rules - everyone does it. And what you do once, you'll do again. S'just a matter of time."

"What about love?"

"What about it? Seems to me love is the biggest betrayal of all - an illusion we call reality. I don't believe a person can give without expecting _something_ in return."

"I do. I don't think it's easy, but I think human beings are capable of generosity, kindness, selflessness."

"Giving without getting?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'm talkin' love here. Don't you love, Kyoya?"

He watches his friend consider the question as logically as he's capable of doing right now. "I told you I do. My brother, my sister, my mother most of the time, you."

Tamaki's response is automatic. "I love you, too." The way he says it feels intimate.

Kyoya laughs a bit, "You really don't handle alcohol well, do you?"

"No, makes me…filters lose…more."

"This conversation is getting a little weird." Push.

"Does it frighten you?"

"Nnoo, but I thought we were discussing Haruhi's party. And yes, I did plan it - for _her_."

"I'm glad."

Kyoya looks at him, a quizzical look on his face. "I thought we were competing for her attention."

"You are."

"You're not?"

"I don't think so. There's someone else I already love." Tamaki hitches a sigh, relieved and surprised by his off-hand confession. Kyoya goes still and Tamaki feels the air being sucked out of the space between them, his mouth going dry. Yet, for all of his nervousness and fuzzy brain, he's reached a place of clarity.

Kyoya's query is mostly breath. "Who?"

"I think you know." His decision is made. Act or be counted a coward.

Kyoya is uncharacteristically flustered, watching as Tamaki slides across the bench towards him. "What- What are you doing?" he asks softly, leaning back as Tamaki leans forward.

Tamaki feels the pull of his emotions unfettered. He murmurs, "I dunno, but I hope you don't push me away." Kyoya's lack of objection buoys the blond's courage, even as his heart pounds in his chest, his breath comes shorter and his pulse spikes yet again.

"When - did - this - happen?" Kyoya's eyes are wide, searching his.

Tamaki shrugs. "It didn't just 'happen.' I guess thinking about you and Haruhi made me think about something I hadn't considered before." Speaking his epiphany is gratifying, if not terrifying.

"Did I do…anything to suggest…?" Kyoya whispers.

"No, Kyoya." Tamaki soughs with a soft smile, his eyes gentle. "You didn't do a thing but be who you are…for me." Kyoya swallows. "And I don't expect anything from you that you won't give freely."

"Uhhh, I don't-"

"I know. You're not into guys. I get that. But maybe…" Tamaki holds Kyoya's gaze searching for a clue that he's been accepted, if not loved, "you could be into me...for awhile?"

And for the second time in his life, Suoh Tamaki has rendered Ootori Kyoya utterly speechless.

End - Chapter 5 - Choke

* * *

Choke - Bowling for Soup [Tamaki's inner mind-centric]

Dude it's you're big chance. Don't blow it.  
You're probably gonna blow it.

Na na nana na…You're gonna choke again. (Refrain 2x)  
Choke. (4x)

They're counting on you. The lines have been drawn.  
You never come through when the pressure is on.  
You're covered in sweat. You're thinking too much.  
You're losing you're cool and you're losing you're touch.  
Here's you're big chance; now you're goin' for pro.  
Here we go. Here we go. 1,2,3…choke!

Na na nana na…You're gonna choke again. (Refrain 2x)  
Choke. (4x)

Your fingers are crossed, but that's not enough.  
You talk a big game, but you ain't so tough.  
The look in your eye - nothin' but fear.  
Is it cold in here? Or is it just your career?  
Another big chance goin' up in smoke.  
Here we go. Here we go. 1,2,3…choke!

Na na nana na…You're gonna choke again. (Refrain 2x)  
Choke. (4x)

Take your time now. Free your mind now.  
You can't take it. (2x)  
What are afraid of? Show 'em what you're made of.  
You can't fake it. (2x)  
You can't take it. (3x) …now!

Na na nana na…You're going choke again. (Refrain repeat to end)  
Choke. (4x)

(Spoken over repeating refrain):

Dude, seriously. People are never going talk to you again.  
You're gonna have to like get up and grow a mustache or something so no one will notice.  
You're going have to move to like another country - Third World!  
Seriously, everyone is going ignore you every day of your life from now on.  
You totally suck! It's hilarious!  
Whoa, seriously! Seriously!  
Just go, just go, just go!  
I can't stop laughing! It's ridiculous! You're an idiot!  
You're going have to go like through witness protection program or something.  
You're going have to change your name, an assumed identity or something.  
Well, literally, like, they're going put you on a milk carton of people who suck.  
That's going happen! To you!

Oh my God! It's great!


	6. Drive

**Chapter 6 - Drive**

The landscape between them has completely changed in the space of a few minutes. Or has it? Kyoya takes in a long breath and slowly releases it, his buzz gone cold. He looks away, unable to meet Tamaki's eyes. _How did I not realize? How did I not see this coming? So I'm the idiot, after all. _"Tamaki-"

The blond rambles, "S'ok, Kyo. I understand if you're not interested. I jus' thought you should know. It's not like I've known this for a long time and kept it from you. I mean, I suppose I've always known but it wasn't an issue. Everybody seemed happy and it didn't matter-" The words tumble over themselves.

Kyoya puts up a hand. "Just give me a moment to think, please." He pushes at his glasses then turns on the radio once more, filling the space with a backdrop of music to diffuse what the driver might still be able to hear.

"This isn't about thinking. It's about feeling." _Emotional, as always._

Kyoya looks at Tamaki again. "Then give me a minute to _feel_," he says emphatically, "because right now I have no idea." Tamaki pulls back, chastened, but stays beside his friend, resting his head against Kyoya's shoulder. Kyoya doesn't resist, but sits still as stone. Tamaki is outrageous, but always well-meaning; and Kyoya has learned that leaning into the curve usually ends in their making the turn without mishap. But this…

He stares out the window. The highway slides by, moving in time yet static in composition. Not so with people_. So this is why he's been acting so peculiar. I knew something was up. _The nimble mind with numbers is somewhat at a loss with emotions. _Damn, Tamaki. Why is everything so dramatic with you? What do I feel? You're still my best friend and this can't be easy for you. _He pivots his head and Tamaki shifts closer. The brunet looks at him from the lowered corners of his eyes.

Tamaki's face is close to his, half shadowed by proximity, passing lights randomly illuminating pale eyelashes. Tamaki's eyes slant upwards at his in perfect host attitude. Kyoya knows his friend's modus operandi only too well. _What do you want, Tamaki? Acceptance? Approval? What do you want?_ But inside he knows and it unsettles him.

Homosexual supporting cast he is not. He prefers girls, though a boy may turn his head now and again. _Nothing more than that._ The twins' obvious ploys to engage him just aggravate, so why then does Tamaki's sincere request entice him? _Style vs. substance? Two vs. one? How 'bout heterosexual vs. homosexual? Or otherwise? Hmmm. You'd think that would be consideration one, wouldn't you?_

The blond's tongue darts out to wet his lips, leaving them slightly parted. It shouldn't affect him but it does, focusing Kyoya's attention_. It's just a mouth._ _It could be anyone's…but it's Tamaki's. Tamaki has a beautiful mouth. As an artist, I appreciate beauty._ _That's all it is._

As if reading his mind, Tamaki asks, "Aren't you even curious?"

"No," he resists, but it's ephemeral at best. He looks away once more.

"No one has to know. It's just the two of us, like always." Tamaki leans in further, his thigh nestled against his own.

_Now what do I do? _Kyoya _is_ curious. Always has been, about so many things. And he can't ignore the subtle thrill that Tamaki's open invitation stirs in him. _Two adolescent boys experimenting isn't exactly common, but neither is it unusual._ _And done discreetly, no one is hurt… except Haruhi. How can I be so attracted to her and consider this, too?_ Best to clear the air now.

"Our friendship is something I greatly value," Kyoya begins, "and I always protect what I value. What you're asking may jeopardize that. Besides, you know that I have feelings towards Haruhi and, whatever they are at this point in time, they're easily frayed."

"Are you in love with her?"

Kyoya turns back to meet his friend's honest question. "I don't know. I don't jump into things the way you do, but what I can tell you is that I can't stop thinking about her. With all the girls at Ouran who admire me, not one of them interests me the way Haruhi does, a great deal, and I can't say why."

"Maybe it doesn't matter. I never think about the why when it comes to people. I just feel what I feel. And I'm not asking you to give up Haruhi 'cause I'm pretty sure she feels the same way about you." Kyoya's eyebrows lift. "In case you hadn't noticed, 'cause everyone else has."

"What do you mean?" _My demeanor at Host Club reveals nothing._

"I hate to admit it, but whenever you're around, Haruhi lights up like a candle and you? You follow her with your eyes."

"So much for being the cool character. Is it that obvious?"

Tamaki nods. "But here's the thing," he adds before the leg beside Kyoya's eases over his lap and slips between his knees. Tamaki shifts forward and turns his body towards the brunet, settling one hand on Kyoya's arm and the other on his chest. Kyoya's quickened breath tells him what he needs to know. "I don't care anymore," he admits, then pauses. Sotto voce, he murmurs, "I just want to be with you. Even just once."

"You're sure about your…preference?" Kyoya deflects in as normal a tone of voice as he can muster, his mind at odds with his body which is responding to the blond's seduction.

"I could deny it, but yeah," Tamaki replies with a slight shrug. "I'm French. I'm blond. I'm gay." His dismissive words belie the hesitation in his eyes. "And I want you, Kyoya, and part of you wants me, too."

_To agree is to lie. To disagree is to lie. Where is the truth_? "That's an intriguing notion, in its own way."

"It's true, isn't it?"

Kyoya's fuzzy mind processes the question, struggling to maintain composure, made difficult under alcohol's influence. "I must say I'm a bit surprised that you're so comfortable with all this. You usually turn fifteen shades of red."

"I dunno, Kyo. Maybe it's 'cause I couldn't accept what was happening inside of me whenever anyone said anything even remotely suggestive."

"And you can now?" _How do I answer him?_

"I"ll guess I'll find out."

"Will you tell the club?" _Why am I avoiding this?_

"In time. I don't think it'll make much difference.

"Probably not." _Except for us._

"So what do they call it when two guys hook up at our age?"

"A youthful indiscretion?" _To say the least._

"Right. So…we're young," Tamaki says in a low voice before he presses closer, sliding his hand to Kyoya's side as his face nears. "Let's be indiscreet."

Tamaki's logic may be skewed, but any retort Kyoya might offer is short-circuited by the unexpected flush that runs through him and the way his entire body tenses with anticipation. The blond is quiet as he brazenly undoes the two closed buttons of Kyoya's cardigan, then every button of the shirt beneath, waiting for opposition that never comes. Kyoya's breathing has gone shallow.

"C'mon Kyoya. Can you really say you've never thought about it?" Tamaki murmurs, his index finger tracing random swirls against Kyoya's lower abdomen. Kyoya's groin tightens in response. "Never wondered…" A more-than-subtle thrill arrows through the brunet and an indiscriminate sound voices itself from somewhere deep inside of him. So close to him, he breathes in Tamaki - cotton and wool infused with his musk and the barest hint of Hermes. It further stimulates his appetite for the blond's warm and available body. _Why am I feeling this? No, wrong question. Why am I fighting this?_

Tamaki grows serious. "And if I'm…queer…then I don't want my first experience to be with a stranger or somebody I don't really care about. Can't you understand that?" Those unusual violet eyes seem to look into his soul. _Tamaki is queer._ The word hovers between them, something they've sidestepped for years - out of ignorance, out of fear of reprisal, out of respect for their friendship. He's tolerant of differences in others but having your best friend come out to you _and_ force you to examine your own sexuality at the same time is a double kick in the head. Kyoya tries to close off his heart to the faint pain he hears in Tamaki's last question, and his body to the way Tamaki's hand feels just inches away from where he wants it to be. An audible sigh of surrender grips him.

_Realization - I want to mess around with my best friend who happens to be a guy only I'm totally hung up on another friend who happens to be a girl. That makes me...Okay. Maybe it's smarter if I don't act on any of this right now. _"Listen," Kyoya says, pushing at his glasses. "We're a little drunk and I think we should talk about this when we're not, like tomorrow."

"I can't wait."

Tamaki leans in and presses an open-mouthed kiss under Kyoya's jaw eliciting a twitch and intake of breath. The blond trails lazy wet kisses against his throat moving upwards until Kyoya feels warm breath in his ear. "Je tiens à faire plasir," {I want to pleasure you} Tamaki whispers to him, voice full of longing. Kyoya gives one slow blink. _How did I know you were going to go French on me?_

Kyoya hums an exhale as the tip of Tamaki's tongue slides along his ear's inner curve to the lobe that he pulls into his mouth briefly before releasing. Body turned towards the blond, Kyoya grabs Tamaki's upper arm and pushes him back into the bench, leans in, placing a kiss just beside his mouth, then pulling back. The blond's smile is impish. "That's not how you kissed Haruhi, now is it?" with a twitch of a brow. For a brief moment, Kyoya sees in Tamaki's eyes a look of pure craving. If he was the cat with Haruhi, he's now Tamaki's mouse. Then the blond smiles, a flash of innocence, and he remembers. _It's Tamaki._

Despite the blond's bravado, Kyoya feels the subtle tremor under his hand even as Tamaki's hand splays at the back of his neck and pulls him in. His eyelids droop as the blond keeps him close, his lips touching Kyoya's lightly, moving with languid perfection against them. Brief exploratory kisses spark a burn over the brunet's skin. _Is it the kiss? _A sharp need to respond grips him as he catches the soft lips between his own. _Is it him? _Tamaki's hum vibrates through him. _Or just me?_ The tongue that captured his attention licks fire against his lips, first lower, then upper drawing Kyoya's out to toy with it. _Does it matter?_

Any thought of letting Tamaki explore a bit without response from him is discarded. He grabs the blond's face with one hand, angling it to his liking as he plunders that sweet mouth anew, tongue licking into his mouth without finesse. Tamaki pushes back, nipping Kyoya's upper lip. "Oww!" They shove away from one another, hands maintaining their grip, chests heaving. They seem to realize at the same time that they're matched in build and in strength. Tenderness is optional. There's just need and want, and a bond of trust forged long before.

Sweaters are peeled off and shirt buttons undone. Tamaki slips off his boots while Kyoya fumbles with laces. The blond doesn't have the patience to wait and interrupts to straddle the brunet, pinning him at the hips against the back of the bench. Kyoya manages to hard toe his boots off at last, then slide down a bit, closing the gap between them, breathless at the way Tamaki has taken hold of him. Above, the blond's hands rake through dark hair as they angle Kyoya's face upwards before dropping his head.

"Je désire ceci," {I want you} Tamaki breathes against lips that seek his. Kyoya wants it, too; wants to know how it is to find pleasure, not with just any male, but with this one. Only he's unable to say it and he's angry with himself for being unable to say it. _You deserve better._ Instead, he shows what he cannot say, his mouth bruising Tamaki's with hungry kisses that only increase his deeper want. Lips caress lips, tongues sliding and circling one another.

They pause for breath. Tamaki removes Kyoya's glasses saying, "I like you without them," before setting them beside their schoolbags and topcoats on deck, listing against the brunet to do so. As he descends he deliberately rocks against Kyoya's torso. The brunet closes his eyes to sharpen his awareness of the blond's stiff cock against him through chinos. Tamaki resettles, hands against Kyoya's chest, continuing his slow, steady pulse against Kyoya while bestowing feathery kisses on his forehead, both cheeks, his chin, dropping lower to draw his collar to one side to press his mouth to the place where his neck meets his shoulder.

"Don't," Kyoya warns in a deep breathy voice, forbidding Tamaki from leaving a mark that might evidence their tryst, even as his heated blood throttles through him, pooling at his core, setting him fully alight and aloft.

His eyes re-open and Tamaki is focused on him with a small smile. "So you're interested, at last," he quips, his voice huskier than usual as he shifts back on Kyoya's thighs with a gravelly sigh, making sure that bottom and balls make a good impression on the newly arrived party guest. Kyoya groans and Tamaki looks smug. They unbuckle one another's belts and toss them onto the pile. _Enough is enough._ The brunet pushes the blond off his lap and tries to wrestle him horizontal with himself above.

They tussle in the awkward space. Tamaki has the advantage and uses it to keep Kyoya under him as they sprawl partly on, partly off the bench. An upper thigh bears into the brunet's already aroused state and he growls with urgency and frustration, annoyed at being controlled by Tamaki, who usually lets him run things. But not here. Tamaki is unphased by his irritation, an unusual response, supporting himself on straight arms, looking down at Kyoya. "Trouves-tu cela?" {How do you like this?}

"Not much," Kyoya grumbles, but it's a lie. Tamaki gives a moue and makes a mock sad sound before rubbing himself upwards along Kyoya's thigh creating friction as his own thigh rubs through Kyoya's corduroys and against his cock. They groan together, the line separating friends from lovers growing ever more indistinct. They're panting as Tamaki slides back and Kyoya repositions them so that their cocks are flush to one another.

Tamaki drops onto his forearms, his face in line with Kyoya's. Their eyes meet and Kyoya is taken aback. He can't remember anyone ever looking at him like this. Ever. Fondness, humor and lust meet in Tamaki's gaze. And in that moment, he knows he is loved by the crazy French-Japanese boy who turned his life upside down for the better. What's more, he knows he could fall in love with him. He could.

End - Chapter 6 - Drive

**A/N: My thanks to Destinies Entwined for the quick assist with Chapter 6 & 7. Your kindness is appreciated.**

* * *

Drive - Incubus [Kyoya-centric]

Sometimes, I feel the fear of uncertainty stinging clear  
And I can't help but ask myself how much I let the fear  
Take the wheel and steer.  
It's driven me before  
And it seems to have a vague, haunting mass appeal;  
But lately I'm beginning to find that I  
Should be the one behind the wheel.

Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there  
With open arms and open eyes.  
Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there.  
I'll be there.

So if I decide to waiver my chance to be one of the hive,  
Will I choose water over wine and hold my own and drive?  
It's driven me before  
And it seems to be the way that everyone else gets around;  
But lately I'm beginning to find that  
When I drive myself my light is found.

Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there  
With open arms and open eyes.  
Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there.  
I'll be there.

Would you choose water over wine?  
Hold the wheel and drive.

Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there  
With open arms and open eyes.


	7. The Great Escape

**Chapter 7 - The Great Escape**

Breath channels through noses, pants from mouths, onto one another's faces, against one another's hair. Lips seek flesh to caress, to nip, to adore. "J'aime à te toucher," {I love touching you} Tamaki croons seductively. Tongues lave the flushed skin of ear, neck and the rise of collarbone. Hands seek skin wherever they can find it and caress where they cannot; Kyoya's roaming Tamaki's back, his buttocks and his thighs, gaining knowledge through touch. They communicate differently, but the message is the same. _More._

Time suspends as their altered state governs reality. Fabric detracts yet adds sensation to the stimulation of cocks working a rhythm against each other. On top, Tamaki's hands grip Kyoya's pinning them to either side of him as he pushes himself to ride harder against the brunet. Underneath, Kyoya feels restricted and overheated. He needs freedom to move, wants to take charge of the blond, make him say his name as he cums. There are no second thoughts now.

"I want my hand_ on_ you, not over you," Kyoya informs, fully engaged in what he initially opposed. Tamaki's slitted eyes widen, but he doesn't hesitate to unfasten his trousers, then Kyoya's. _Confidence always wins._ The brunet reaches between them to press his hand against the toned muscle of Tamaki's lower abdomen, then lower, passing over the patch of what he imagines to be blond hair, ignoring Tamaki's cock to gently fondle his sack. "Do you like this?" Kyoya uses Tamaki's own question to tease the blond who simply moans with satisfaction and leans over to kiss him, tongue deep into his mouth, as if to possess him.

Kyoya does nothing half-way, his compulsion to excel both an asset and a liability. Having finally committed to the cause, he wants to concentrate on pleasing Tamaki, but the blond's tongue endlessly diverts as it draws back, teasing Kyoya's forward so he can wrap his lips around it, suckle and end with a flick against it. He does it again, leaving Kyoya dizzy and unfocused. _Where did you learn how to do that?_ His free hand rakes through the blond's hair at the back of his head, clutching a handful and pulling his head back with more than a gentle tug. The look in Tamaki's eyes is feral and Kyoya likes that. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Don't stop." Tamaki's breathing is a little labored.

"Then be still."

"Please, Kyo. I'm sorry. I can't help myself." But he holds himself quiet, breathing in soft pants, his eyes slits.

Kyoya releases him with one hand as the fingertips of the other brush upwards along Tamaki's hard length to palm the head. He takes the hard twitch and involuntary mewl that he draws from the blond as recompense. Using the slick precum on his hand, he glides his grip half-way back down Tamaki's shaft, squeezes gently, then slides up again, the palm of his hand covering the head with a swirling motion before he repeats the pattern. He's disadvantaged by position, but Tamaki's response indicates only pleasure as he pants against Kyoya's ear.

He continues stroking, fascinated by the way he can make Tamaki twitch or sigh or moan. "Look at me," Kyoya commands softly. Tamaki pulls back and forces his eyes open, pupils blown out wide. His right hand is laced tightly in Kyoya's left while the other grips the leather upholstery. He's practically been edging since they started, his need now desperate.

A soft pinch on the underside of the cock where the head and shaft meet and Tamaki stills, sound caught in his throat, ejaculate warming Kyoya's palm. Kyoya stops stroking but maintains an open-fisted hold, gently pulsing it like a heartbeat as orgasm ripples through the blond who shudders, wordless utterances synced with his body's spasms, mouth open to take in needed oxygen, eyes slammed shut. "Say my name," Kyoya murmurs. Tamaki hums a bit, then presses his lips to Kyoya's whispering 'Kyo' like prayer, before bestowing a sloppy kiss.

Tamaki finally stills with a full exhalation, collapses and buries his face in Kyoya's neck. The full-press of his weight is strangely comforting to the brunet, its allure nearly as powerful as his yet unmet sexual need. He unwinds his hand from Tamaki's and rummages in his side pocket, extracting a simple white handkerchief that he uses to clean them up, then re-pockets. The blond stirs lazily and closes his chinos. "Mnnn. I like you taking care of me," he mutters, "but I need to take care of you, too." He kisses Kyoya's chest and rolls off.

The brunet misses his warmth, but lays back with closed eyes, body strung taut, wrists crossed at the top of his forehead, as before. He feels his trousers being tugged down a bit, the air cool against superheated flesh. He's already slick at the head when Tamaki's hand palms there, then takes him in hand, running his thumb back-and-forth over the slit before sliding down to the base with a slow glide and quick return. Kyoya's hips surge upward into his hold and back with a solid grunt. He looks to Tamaki who sits on his knees beside him in the concave space below the bench.

"C'est bon, ça?" {Good, huh?} Tamaki asks, the imp returned. _As if you don't know._

"A-gain," Kyoya instructs, too enthralled to scowl.

"Très bien." {Very good} He executes the move once more and Kyoya growls his approval, feeling heightened knowing that Tamaki observes him, wants to please him.

"A few more like that and I'm done," Kyoya informs between breaths.

"I can make it last longer," the blond promises.

"Just finish me," he breathes. For a few endless moments, Kyoya feels nothing but nerves frazzled to the point of pain. And then he's absorbed into the unexpected warmth of Tamaki's mouth. He gasps and props himself up on his elbows, eyes open to the sight of Tamaki going down on him. It's an image he'll never forget even as his eyes roll back in his head and he flops back down, sensation coiling tighter, stronger, harder, then suddenly releasing with white-hot ferocity, followed by rapture.

He restrains the cry that rises in his throat, dim awareness reminding that they aren't altogether alone. The keen spasms linger, subsiding over time into a sense of well-being. He lay in a stupor as Tamaki cleans up with tissues and refastens his trousers. Kyoya pulls himself into a seated position, movements sluggish as he rearranges his shirt and sweater and re-loops his belt. He grabs a water bottle and uncaps it, letting the cool liquid ease his parched throat as he always does after sexual pleasure. Sobriety is re-emerging but he feels groggy and unkempt. A look over at Tamaki and he's baffled as to how the blond manages to look rested and neatly reappointed. _Then again...he is the prince._

Tamaki takes the half-full bottle Kyoya offers and finishes it. "You're very pretty when you cum, Kyoya," Tamaki says across the dark space between them.

"So are you, though you're still an idiot," comes the reply as Kyoya resets his glasses on his nose. But his tone is affectionate.

"Thank you," Tamaki smiles at the endearment.

"You know this isn't going to happen again."

"We'll see."

Kyoya doesn't argue; just looks at his watch, then out the window noting that they're approaching the exit for Tamaki's neighborhood. He leans back with a sigh of contentment.

"What do you think your father would say about what we just did?" Tamaki asks.

"I don't even want to think about that."

"It would be a glorious way to get back at him, though. Wouldn't it?"

Kyoya gives a short laugh. "Might just give him a heart attack or a stroke except with my luck, he'd revive himself with his own equipment."

"You'll exceed him, Kyoya. You know that."

Kyoya shakes his head. "It's unlikely. He's highly successful in business."

"And a failure at relationships. Where's the merit in that?" Kyoya doesn't reply, considering the question. Then, in typical nonsequitur Tamaki fashion, he yawns and says, "I'm starving. We should have had dinner before we got on the highway."

"You should have mentioned it. '"

"I had other things on my mind."

"I'd say so."

"You didn't?"

_We both know you're referring to Haruhi, but I'm not discussing it right now._ "What do you think your grandmother would say?"

"I don't think her opinion of me could get any worse, but there's always that possibility."

"Especially if she knew you went down on guys."

"I don't go down on guys; only you." He reaches over and puts his hand on Kyoya's knee.

"In other words, this is staying between us."

"As promised."

"This isn't happening again, Tamaki," Kyoya repeats, removing Tamaki's hand. "You said, 'once.'"

"Don't say anything more, Kyo. Let's just enjoy being together. The rest will work itself out."

"You believe that?"

"I do. I have to."

Kyoya doesn't want to ask what he means, but he abides by Tamaki's wishes. Unpredictable, loyal, passionate and yes, loving, is his best friend. _Maybe there really is something genuine about love. Just maybe. _The Tokyo tower is visible in the distance. Kyoya turns the radio volume up at the sound of a song he enjoys. It's an upbeat anthem. He sees Tamaki look upwards at the sunroof with a look of mischief.

"You wouldn't," Kyoya says.

"Wouldn't I?"

"Tamaki…"

"I can't help it, Kyo. I gotta do it. Open the window."

"It's freezing."

"I don't care. I want to feel it. Open the window."

"You're crazy."

"So are you. That's why we're friends. Open - The - Window."

"Arghh," Kyoya gripes but hits the button that powers the sunroof open. The steamy heat of the car is sucked into the night. Tamaki throws on his overcoat, then jumps up on the bench seat in stockinged feet, pushing his upper body through the oblong opening. Kyoya watches from beneath and hears him yelling at the top of his lungs. He shakes his head at his friend's insanity, then follows suit.

The night is cold and crisp but they're young and hot-blooded. The speed of the car makes balance precarious, but they help one another stay upright. The moon is full, surrounded by a ring of icy light high in the stratosphere.

"This is supposed to feel good?" Kyoya yells over the rushing air, his face already smarting from the wind.

"Isn't it great?" Tamaki yells back. He settles an arm around the brunet's shoulder. "Kyoya," he shouts next to his ear. "Promise me we'll always be friends."

"Of course, you dumbass."

"No matter what?"

"No matter what!"

Tamaki moves his arm to reach down and grab Kyoya's hand, throwing it up with his. Kyoya gives him a look that asks 'really?' "C'mon, Kyo. You know you want to." _I do, don't I?_

Four hands are in the air, flying down the highway on a winterbound night, their voices howling at the hunter's moon. Whatever changes come, they'll handle it. Whatever relationships or challenges, they'll handle it. Time enough to sort out what it all means. Right now, they're just friends - very, very close friends.

End - Chapter 7 - The Great Escape

**For Kyotam - Happy Valentine's Day**

* * *

The Great Escape - Boys Like Girls [Kyoya x Tamaki-centric]

Paper bags and plastic hearts -  
All our belongings in shopping carts.  
It's goodbye, but we got one more night.  
Let's get drunk and ride around  
And make peace with an empty town.  
We can make it right.

Throw it away. Forget yesterday.  
We'll make the great escape.  
We won't hear a word they say.  
They don't know us anyway.  
Watch it burn. Let it die. 'Cause we are finally free tonight.

Tonight will change our lives.  
It's so good to be by your side.  
We'll cry. We won't give up the fight.  
We'll scream loud at the top of our lungs  
And they'll think it's just 'cause we're young  
And we'll feel so alive.

Throw it away. Forget yesterday.  
We'll make the great escape.  
We won't hear a word they say.  
They don't know us anyway.  
Watch it burn. Let it die. 'Cause we are finally free tonight.

All of the wasted time,  
The hours that were left behind,  
The answers that we'll never find -  
They don't mean a thing tonight.

Throw it away. Forget yesterday. (refrain 2x)  
We'll make the great escape.  
We won't hear a word they say.  
They don't know us anyway.

Watch it burn. Let it die. 'Cause we are finally free tonight.


	8. Right Here

**Chapter 8 - Right Here**

Just before noon on Sunday. Patchy clouds cover a slate sky. The weather is unseasonably warm and the mounded snow is melting into rivulets that meander across sidewalks and streets into gutters turned into urban waterfalls. Haruhi enters the apartment and places the grocery sacks on the counter. _Dad won't be home for awhile. _She puts the items where they're stowed and looks around the quiet rooms.

For once, the hosts have honored her request to be left alone on the weekend and she appreciates the solitude and quiet. It's something she needs on a regular basis to recharge her soul after dealing with school, friends and crazy girls all week long. She doesn't meditate, but often sits staring out the window for long stretches, keeping her mind as still as possible. She tries to do so now.

_I am a petal in the stream. I am water over stone._ She sits quietly but finds herself unable to calm her mind. She picks up the novel a classmate recommended, but it's left on her bed after fifteen minutes. She plays a few listless rounds of solitaire on her netbook, but she can't concentrate. Everything she tries fails to distract her thoughts from the one thing, the one person, that claims them - Kyoya-senpai.

_Sou desu ka?_ She folds and re-folds every piece of laundry._ Sure, he's the cool guy, but that's not why. He isn't sweet like Honey-senpai. He isn't kind like Mori-senpai. _She prepares her book bag for school the following day. _He certainly is not funny like the twins or even as charming as Tamaki-senpai. _She decides what to prepare for dinner and gets things started. _Wealth is more a liability than an asset __and__ he reports to my dad. Get out of my head Kyoya-senpai. Get out and stay out. _

She isn't smitten. Oh no, she's not. She's sensible and realistic and has neither the time nor the inclination to have a romantic relationship with anybody, let alone someone she considers a friend and who she sees nearly every day. If it all goes wrong, well, that would be awkward to the say the least. _Get real, Haruhi. You've been quietly flirting for weeks..._

…_Kyoya-senpai, why am I suddenly booked to the max? How am I supposed to entertain all these clients?...Are you saying you're unable to manage a few amorous girls? Come now, Haruhi. Your skills are really quite good…You would know…_

…_Haruhi? I need to speak with you about your recent expenditures for the club's pantry. Please stay after hours to go over the receipts…Do you really need me to stay?...Yes, Haruhi, I need you…_

…_Senpai, I appreciate the opportunity to cosplay as Queen Cleopatra, but why is Tamaki Caesar and you, Antony?...Because he's the king, of course. What other possible reason could there be?..._

On top of that, her recall is just too good…

…_He stops her with his closed lips on hers, his hand threading through her hair at the back of her head…she feels him smile against her mouth…the hand on her shoulder moves to encircle her waist...the slow slide of his tongue against her closed mouth…her own tongue seeking him…slow unhurried movements…breath uneven, pulse thrumming…_

She sighs, as vexed as she is stirred up by the memory. It captures her at the oddest times - the way he regarded her, the sound of his voice at her ear, the way he touched her and the way his mouth felt against hers. Tenderness and Kyoya are not easily linked, but he was tender with her. She wonders what else is guised behind the façade he carefully maintains.

She makes a cup of tea and cuddles up with it on the sofa, wrapping herself within the afghan Mom had crocheted long, long ago. She imagines those hands working the hook, soft yarn scrolling in and around to create something warm and comforting just for her. _It's almost like you're hugging me, Mom._ The tears rise and since she's alone, she allows them to puddle and roll down her cheeks forging salty tracks that burn her fair skin.

A minute of self-indulgence and she straightens her shoulders. _This doesn't help anything._ She wipes the tears away with her hands and presses her face into the blanket, "Oh Mom, I'm so confused. I have all these questions that I can't ask Dad. I wish I could talk to you." She leans her face against the back of the sofa and closes her eyes.

Street sounds fade and in their place is the quiet ping of wind chimes floating in the rush of warm air that wafts through the apartment. The spicy sweet scent of incense and flowers permeates the air. Haruhi feels a hand pushing at her shoulder and a voice calling her name…

"Haruhi…Haruhi. Wake up sleepy-girl. Come on."

Haruhi lifts her head and rubs her eyes. A soft golden glow, thick as honey, streams through the windows at the far end of the room. _Sun must've come out. _She sits up and blinks several times in quick succession. Bathed in the mellow light at the other end of the sofa sits Fujioka Kotoko. She's wearing her gray suit, the one Haruhi always imagines her in. No angel wings or halo, though.

_This is weird. _"Umm, hey Mom. How'd you get here?"

"Trade secret. Are you scared?" Her voice is soothing.

"A little confused, but that's okay. Can you stay?"

"For a little while."

"Are you a ghost?"

"There's no such thing as ghosts."

"Then what are you?" _And why am I talking to you?_

"I'm your mom. Don't try to analyze it, Haru-chan. Just go with it." The image smiles with benevolence and Haruhi gives up logic.

"Why are you here?"

"Because you need me now."

"I've needed you for a long time, Mom. Why didn't you come then?" Haruhi can't help but sound a little miffed.

"I'm sorry. It's not that easy. Besides, your dad's doing a good job taking care of you. He's still as cute as ever, too." The vision giggles, a bit girly in aspect.

"I didn't think…spirits…could laugh."

"Guess we can, like this. But I'm not here to discuss me but you, and I'm right here now. Are things okay? Are you well?"

"I'm fine unless craving fancy tuna counts as an addiction."

"Yum. I don't blame you one bit." They chuckle together. "Is it about school?"

Haruhi clutches the blanket around her knees and rests her chin on top. "Nah. That's okay. I have to study all the time, but I'm keeping my grades up. My scholarship depends on my doing well."

"You must work very hard."

"I do. I'm going to go to law school and become a lawyer like you."

"Is that what you want to do?"

"Does it please you?" Haruhi's head tips to one side.

"Haruhi, you have a wonderful mind and a good heart. If becoming a lawyer is your dream, then follow it; but if something else pulls at your heart, follow that. Following your heart is important. It doesn't matter what pleases me or how much money you make."

"I know that."

"Oh, don't misunderstand. Money is a wonderful tool. It gives us opportunities, but it doesn't and never will buy happiness."

"My idiot rich friends wouldn't agree even though they seem to have as many problems as anyone else. Maybe more."

"School friends?"

"At Ouran Academy. That's where I attend."

"I'm aware of Ouran. I attended Lobelia, you know."

"That's right." Haruhi grins. "Oh, mom. If you only knew…"

"Do they still have that ridiculous Zuka Club?"

"Do they ever!" she chortles.

"And here I was hoping they'd un-charter that one." They laugh together and Haruhi relaxes. _If this is a dream, then I'm going to enjoy it._

"But you were a part of it. Dad showed me the souvenirs."

"Long story. I only joined for a semester because my best friend was in it and said if I didn't join, she wouldn't be my friend any more. Imagine being so weak-willed as to join a club just because your...friend...forces you into it."

"Yeah, I sorta can, actually." Kotoko's eyes show curiosity. "See, I'm in this club at school. It's called the Ouran Host Club."

"A host club? Sounds…different."

"How do I explain? It's a group of boys that entertains girls every afternoon. For a fee."

"That sounds vaguely improper." Kotoko gives her a pointed look.

"I know, but it's pretty innocent.""

"And you dress up like a boy, too?"

"Like you said, 'long story,' but that's it."

"Oh. Zuka Club did that all the time. It can be fun actually - trying on the opposite gender to see what it's like. Or don't you like it?"

"I never really thought about it. Is that what you did, Mom?

"That's how I met your father." Haruhi's eyes open wide.

"Really?" _No, really?_

"Ryoji was so handsome - too handsome, actually. So many girls vied for his attention. First time I saw him, he was on a date with some drama major in college. I was a third year attending an after-party; still in costume mind you. We started talking and it was clear he thought I was a guy. We got along right from the start and his date never suspected."

"When did he find out you were a girl?"

"When I slipped him my phone number," Kotoko chuckles. "He practically jumped out of his skin but then I told him my "secret." Funny, he didn't notice before then, but once he knew…well, it seemed to make him all the more interested. He called me the next day and that was that."

"Was he a transvestite then?" Haruhi allows one foot to slip to the floor, the other tucked under the crook of her knee, hands in her lap.

"No. Not until I got pregnant. There were complications. Then Ryoji lost his job and money got tight. I was the one who suggested he try dressing like a woman. He was so determined to take care of me and you all on his own."

"I never knew. Dad never talks about it."

"He doesn't want you to worry though he worries all the time. So… what's troubling you, Haru-chan? It's not your health or your schoolwork, so it must be about… love? Is someone on your mind?"

"Funny you should put it that way. It's, uh, a friend from Host Club."

"Do you know him well?"

Haruhi looks down at her hands. "I know him, somewhat. I don't know if anyone knows him well 'cept for his best friend."

"What's he like?"

"He's smart, level-headed, and talented but doesn't get recognized for any of it by his family."

"That bothers you."

"I don't understand it. He's first in his class, Mom."

"You admire that."

"Ouran's a tough school."

"So...is he cute?"

"You could say that."

"Do _you_?"

"Okay, yes, he's extremely cute. He's also extremely wealthy."

"Does that disturb you?"

"It does, a little. He can be a little clueless about how the other half lives. Actually, all of my Ouran friends are clueless about things like that. They've never had to do without anything and they're all fascinated by what they call "commoner" things. It's pretty silly."

"So you're their link to the so-called real world. That sounds interesting."

"Does it?"

"Learning about different types of people and their lives is always fascinating and helping someone develop understanding is a priceless opportunity. Finding the merit in any given situation takes practice, but it's worth it."

"Why did you use that word?"

"What word?"

"Merit."

"Does it mean something to you?"

"Not to me so much, but this friend always measures things in terms of whether something has merit for him or not."

"Don't we all do that?"

"Do we?" Haruhi's brow wrinkles, taken aback by her mom's assessment.

"Whenever we make a decision about something, we always weigh how it will affect us, consciously or not. Think about what matters to you. Your choices reflect your commitment to those values."

"I used to think that money was the only thing Kyoya-senpai valued; but I don't think that absolutely true."

"And you like him, but you're not happy about it." Haruhi shrugs her shoulders, eyes seeking answers. "Why not?"

"I don't have time for distractions, Mom. Besides, why would someone like Kyoya-senpai be interested in me when he could date anyone he chooses?"

"Do you really need me to tell you?"

"Will you think I'm fishing for compliments if I say yes?"

"No. So…Haru-chan…I'll tell you what I know about you. Just don't ask how I know. Let's just say that I get updates."

"Oh no. You, too?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean Kyoya-senpai gives Dad updates about me."

"He does?" Kotoko sounds surprised.

"Yeah. It's a little off-putting, actually." _More like a lot off-putting._

"Your father cares about you and your friend wouldn't pay attention if he weren't interested, now would he? If it didn't have merit for him, as you say."

"Wait a minute…you think that Kyoya-senpai reports to Dad because… no." A novel thought sparks in Haruhi's mind.

"No what?"

"Because it benefits him to talk to Dad?"

"How would your father even know this boy unless he'd been contacted by him after you became a member of the host club? I'm sure he was the one to make the first move." Haruhi lips fall open. "Seems like you're a little clueless yourself."

"Me?" _Clueless? _Haruhi's other foot sets down on the floor beside the first. She turns away slightly, a little embarrassed.

"Haruhi, you're what a boy would call the total package: beauty, brains and a straightforward personality. And the fact that you're unaware of how special you are, makes you even more attractive. Adolescent girls can be vain and petty and superficial. You're not any of those things."

"But Kyoya-senpai is already eighteen. His family probably has plans for his future mapped out, including who he's supposed to date and end up marrying."

"So young?"

"That's how these rich families operate. Guess they want to be sure that the right connections are made before the kids can decide for themselves who they want to be with."

"And you think Kyoya-san wants that?"

"I don't know."

"Then you don't know at all. What else is holding you back?"

"I've never had a boyfriend. Never wanted one. And I see how the girls at club behave. I just don't see myself acting that way."

"Then don't. Tell me," Kotoko continues, "Is Kyoya-san interested in you?"

Haruhi reflects on Friday's outing…

..."It would seem we are ever engaged in a parry of words."  
"I call it smart flirting."  
"So do I."  
"Is it working?"  
"I would have to concede."...

Her cheeks color.

"I guess he is," Kotoko states. Haruhi looks into her mom's eyes which are smiling and filled with warmth.

"What do I do now?"

"Be yourself."

…"Don't change too much, Haruhi"…

She averts her eyes just a bit and quietly asks, "What about…you know…intimacy?"

"It's a beautiful part of loving someone."

"I don't mean to be dense about it, but how do you know when you're ready? The girls at the club I talk to have all sorts of different ideas about it. So do the guys, when I overhear them."

"It may sound old-fashioned, but I think being in a relationship where you're committed to one another's happiness and goals should be part of the equation."

"Sounds serious."

"It should be. Treating sex like a casual game can be costly, Haruhi, especially when you're so young. I don't want to see you get hurt. Boys, by the way, think being in love and being in lust are interchangeable. They're not."

Haruhi looks back at Kotoko. "How do you know if you're in love?"

"Hmmm. Let's see...who in your life loves you right now, besides me?"

Haruhi gives a small smile. "Dad."

"What makes you say that?"

"It's in the way he treats me, how he looks out for me, how he wants the best for me. He just shows it."

"That's what loving someone is like. And, one day, when it comes from the person you consider your best friend for life, it's perfect."

"And being _in_ love?"

"Is exciting, scary, wonderful. It's the first spark of a fire that, if well-tended, can become embers that burn forever."

Haruhi takes a breath and says, "And…about sex...am I supposed to know everything all at once or learn as I go?"

Kotoko chuckles. "You think too much."

"So I've been told."

"But if you mean like learning to crawl before you walk before you run, no. There's no timetable or set order. Just be sure that you're comfortable with whatever it is you're considering and if you're not, be honest about it. Sex is give-and-take, just like anything else in a relationship."

The glow around the image begins to fade.

"Mom?"

"I'm sorry, Haru-chan. I think my time is up."

"Can't you stay a little longer?"

"Don't be afraid to give your heart, Haruhi. It may be broken, but it will always recover so you can give it again. But if you never give, you'll never know how wonderful it feels to receive." The vision is nothing but mist.

"Please stay."

"I'm right here." Kotoko places a hand over her heart, kisses the palm of her hand and extends it to Haruhi. "Always."

Haruhi moves from her place on the sofa to reach out for the figure, but the image dissolves in her hands. The golden glow fades to gray and the apartment turns drab once more. A few remaining tears squeeze from the sides of Haruhi's eyes and she's absorbed by fatigue once more, easing down onto the sofa and closing her eyes.

She hears the doorbell through a sleepy haze. She feels tears behind her lids. They coat her eyes as she blinks them away. Her tea has gone cold on the table. The doorbell rings again. She rises, pushing the lingering moisture from her eyes. She hates it when she falls asleep after crying. Her eyes get puffy and weird looking. The bell rings again. _Impatient little bugger._

She opens it, prepared to greet a delivery man or a solicitor. Imagine her surprise when who else but Kyoya is standing in her doorway.

End - Chapter 8 - Right Here

* * *

Right Here - Miley Cyrus [Kotoko-centric]

I'll be right here where you need me.  
Anytime; just keep believing and I'll be right here.  
If you ever need a friend, someone to care  
and understand, I'll be right here.

All you have to do is call my name  
No matter how close or far away.  
Ask me once and I'll come, I'll come running.  
And when I can't be with you, dream me near.  
Keep me in your heart and I'll appear.  
All you got to do is turn around, close your eyes,  
look inside - I'm right here.

Isn't it great that you know that  
I'm ready to go wherever you're at?  
Anywhere; I'll be there.

All you have to do is call my name  
No matter how close or far away.  
Ask me once and I'll come, I'll come running.  
And when I can't be with you, dream me near.  
Keep me in your heart and I'll appear.  
All you got to do is turn around, close your eyes,  
look inside - I'm right here…

Whenever you need me.  
There's no need to worry.  
You know that I'm gonna be right here!

Ask me once and I'll come, I'll come running.  
And when I can't be with you, dream me near.  
Keep me in your heart and I'll appear.  
All you got to do is turn around, close your eyes,  
look inside - I'm right here.

Oh, yeah, yeah. I'm right here.


	9. Sway

**Chapter 9 - Sway**

Kyoya's tall, lean frame fills the doorway, one hand resting against the jamb. His Ouran duffel coat has been replaced by a fitted, navy blue peacoat, bottom button undone, Gucci striped scarf draped loosely around his neck. Haruhi does not expect him nor the way her heart rate speeds up upon seeing him on her threshold.

"Haruhi, are you alright?"  
"Senpai, what are you….doing here?"

Haruhi's voice drifts off as they step on one another's questions, the understated current she's been feeling for weeks making itself known once again. _He has to feel it, too._ She averts her eyes for a moment, but finds herself unable to resist allowing them to rise along the lines of his body until they meet his once more. If he notices, he gives no indication but the draw she feels is undeniable, making her nerves unsteady.

"Has something happened?" he queries, concern in his voice.

"What do you mean?"

"You look as if you've been crying."

"Oh," she says, imagining only now how she must appear and running a hand through her hair, tucking a few stray strands behind one ear and resting that hand against her neck. "No, everything is fine?"

He cocks his head at her. "Are you asking me or telling me?"

"I'm telling you, Kyoya-senpai. I'm fine. I was dreaming, I think."

"A nightmare?"

"No." He regards her quizzically.

"Seems like-"  
"Would you-""

This time, they each stop and take a breath. Kyoya chuffs and Haruhi smiles awkwardly.

"Please…" Kyoya says, gesturing with his hand for Haruhi to speak.

"So what brings you here on a quiet Sunday afternoon? I'm sure there are more interesting things you could be doing."

The brunet drops his hand from the jamb and straightens. His other hand holds out a bright blue folding umbrella to her. "This was found in my family's limo and I thought it might belong to you."

_Of course. You'd never drop in just to visit __me__. _Haruhi takes the item in hand, dropping her eyes to regard it. "Thank you. I was wondering where this had gotten to. Guess I left it behind the day your driver took me home. Must have been a little distracted," she muses unaware of her allusion.

"Were you? I wouldn't want you to be less than focused."

She looks back at him. "Especially now, with finals coming up. I hear they're evil."

"They are - implicitly and with intent."

"That sounds ominous," she jokes with a smile that he returns. His matter-of-factness eases her nerves and she remembers her manners. "Would you like to come in? I'm expecting Dad shortly but I don't think he'd mind _you_ being here."

He pushes at his glasses. "Actually, I do have something to ask him. Are you certain your father won't take issue with you being home alone with me?"

"Don't you think you should just ask_ me_?" She's prickled by his formality. She soughs through her nose.

"I see. In that case, are _you_ comfortable being alone with me?"

He asks the question simply, but she knows better. Kyoya is a master at keeping his emotions under wraps, whatever they may be.

"Why wouldn't I be? You've always been a gentleman."

"Have I? Some might differ."

They both know he's referring to Tamaki's overly protective behavior of her. The blond is so like her dad, it's scary. _I don't need another dad. I want… something different. Something more._

"I trust you, Kyoya-sempai. Please come in. It's cold," she says. "You can take off your jacket inside."

She steps aside and allows him to pass by her. It seems that he brushes his sleeve against her arm a shade too closely to be accidental, but she might be imagining it. The door clicks shut and locked.

"May I take your coat? We don't have slippers but socks are fine. I'm sure you remember."

"I do. I also seem to remember asking you to call me Kyoya," he says as he turns to face her. "I like the way you say it," he admits in a quieter voice that has her second guessing again. He takes off the coat and scarf, handing them over to Haruhi.

"Right…Kyoya," feeling suddenly shy. _Why am I acting like an idiot schoolgirl? It's just sempai who happens to be male. Makes no difference at all. Get a grip, Haruhi._

But she can't. All of her assertions about gender being meaningless sound hollow. If it doesn't matter, then why is she suddenly at a loss for words, overly conscious of where Kyoya is in relation to herself, aware of every detail about his person? And why, oh why, does the fact that they are, indeed, alone make her feel a little short of breath?

She hangs the expensive scarf and coat on a peg between the Ouran coat she only wears to school and the pile-lined hoodie she wears everywhere else. The contrast between her two personas and Kyoya's singular one is not lost on her.

A surreptitious glance at her blue jeans, button-down white shirt with the cuffs rolled up, polka dot socks and house slippers remind her that she's never been and never will be a fashionista, and that's okay. But what does Kyoya think about it? _Argh. I will not be one of those girls who looks for a guy's approval. No way, ever. _She squares her shoulders and turns back to see Kyoya watching her, his immediate focus unsettling, as always.

"Would you care for some tea?" she asks.

"Thank you. May I help?"

Haruhi is taken aback by his offer. It's not something she imagines he'd do. _But what do I really know about you, anyway? _"It's not necessary. You're a guest."

"I thought we agreed that wasn't the case between us."

"Did we?" She passes him just a shade too closely as she heads towards the kitchen. _I remember that. Didn't think you did._ "There's really not much to it."

The dining area is merged with the living room with a low-slung square table and two rush stools set on a diagonal to one another at one corner. "Please, be comfortable," Haruhi invites and Kyoya complies, dropping into seiza position on the interior side of the table, seemingly at ease.

He's casually dressed in black jeans and a textured loden sweater that probably just walked off the runway. His posture, his attitude, everything about him bespeaks of wealth and comfort with it. His presence here without the rest of the entourage strikes her as incongruent and Haruhi once again considers the unlikelihood of them ever finding common ground, no matter how badly she may want it, or him. _Is what I want sensible or even realistic?_

Kyoya's smartphone rings. "I'm sorry. Excuse me." He pulls the device from his pocket and looks at the screen. A wrinkle creases the space between his brows. Haruhi turns away and moves towards the stove. The small mirror hung on the wall to the left of the sink on the southeast wall inadvertently reflects his image.

Haruhi has never really studied him before, but now her eyes linger. His hair is darkest black and perfectly styled to appear just a bit shaggy. _Just how much does that haircut cost I wonder? It does look good and it's probably really soft._ Her fingers twitch. Wearing a body-hugging sweater, his broad shoulders are defined. A tapered waist leads to hips in line with his shoulders and legs that go on forever. _I like tall and he does fill out those jeans rather nicely._

She sighs and picks up the kettle, holding it beneath the faucet to fill it with cold water. She's known the Host Club long enough to know that none of them are shy about their bodies._ Kaoru and Hikaru live for opportunities to undress and Tamaki is a certified exhibitionist. Mori is damn near perfect and Honey, despite his size, is all muscle - not an ounce of baby fat on him. Now Kyoya…_ a slight blush rises to her cheeks, aware that her fantasies of late have featured him exclusively, dressed or un. The water sloshes over the opening at the top of the kettle and she gives a small shout, turning off the faucet and pouring off some of the excess before covering the kettle and setting it on an active burner.

She doesn't mean to eavesdrop, but the apartment is small and sound carries easily through the ajar shoji screens separating the two rooms..."I'm sorry but I can't tonight," she hears Kyoya saying. Pause. "Tomorrow, at school." Pause. "Tamaki, you're just going to have to figure this one out on your own until then." He sounds a bit exasperated. "I'm not angry. I'm just very certain about it." Pause. "Of course. I'm going to hang up now." Then she hears a deep sigh.

_What happened with them? They've had arguments but Kyoya seems troubled. _She picks up two cups with saucers and spoons.

"Haruhi," Kyoya calls and she starts, rattling the spoons resting on the saucers held in hand. "You really aren't okay, are you? What's going on?"

She turns around. "I _could_ ask you the same question. I overheard. I'm sorry," she says before placing the items towards the middle of the table and sitting down, knees together, ankles angled to one side.

"Oh, that? Just Tamaki being melodramatic. Sometimes he doesn't understand that I may wish to spend time with someone other than him. He'll get over it."

"So you're busy tonight." She leans onto the elbow of the arm that rests on the table, fingers splayed in an unconscious gesture of communication, reaching towards the brunet.

"It's still tentative, but it looks promising," he replies as if it makes no difference. He pockets his phone and places his own arm near hers, her thumb and his pinky just inches apart. "So, Haruhi, what's going on that's got you upset?"

She echoes his sentiment from weeks ago. "Why do you care?"

"A distracted host is a poor host which may lead to unhappy customers and, subsequently, less revenue. That's my official Vice-presidential answer. My personal response is that," he says looking over the top of his glasses at her. "I'm interested," he concludes, voice low and much too inviting. She can almost hear that voice asking her to do rather indecent things.

His hand reaches out to rest on her lower arm. The simple contact captures her attention, but she can't look at him. Instead she looks at his hand, fine-boned with long fingers, an artist's hand that contrasts starkly with the business-like attitude he presents most of the time.

"And so the tables have turned," she thinks aloud.

"Turnabout _is_ fair play."

Haruhi's distracted mind hears 'foreplay' and her head lifts sharply, eyes wide. "What?" she asks, somewhat startled.

"I said turnabout is fair play."

"Oh," she says, relief in her voice.

"What did you think I said?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." She averts her face wishing she could crawl under the table and disappear.

Thankfully, he lets it go. Hopefully, he doesn't make anything of it, though it is Kyoya who notices everything. "It's obvious something is on you mind, Haruhi. Is everything alright with your father?"

"He's fine." She takes in a breath and releases it. "It's actually my mom that's on my mind." _And you._

"Ahh. The anniversary of her death is upcoming, isn't it?"

Haruhi is taken aback, returns her gaze to him. "Dad told you that?"

"He's just concerned that you never talk about it."

She dons her brave front. "I can handle it. I always have."

"I believe you. You're quite an exceptional young woman. But, while you may be able to handle it, you don't have to handle it alone. And if you don't want to burden him, you can tell me. And it stays between us. That's how it works." A subtle smile plays on his lips as he throws her words to him back at her.

She scans his face looking to ascertain motive._ Who are you? Have you always been this way and I never noticed or has some alien lifeform inhabited your body? Maybe it's a ploy of some kind. _She can't help but test the waters of his sudden generosity.

"Worried you might be indebted to me?"

"I already am." He says it as a simple statement of fact and she can't hide her surprise as his hand slides closer to her own, his fingers spanning to rest atop her hand, the side of his thumb pressed against her wrist.

"For what?" she asks, unable to determine how, if at all, Kyoya has any kind of obligation to her.

"You don't realize, do you, the effect you've had on… the club." Push.

"On the club? It's good, I hope." She's aiming for detached curiosity with her words, all the while enjoying the warmth that seeps from his hand onto hers, wondering what he actually meant to say.

"I meant it when I said you were a natural host. That was almost a year ago and since then, you've proven yourself resourceful, hard-working and uncomplaining, for the most part. It's quite refreshing after working with the Hitachiins for nearly double that length of time and enduring their nonsense and their whining."

She smiles. "They are somewhat immature, but sad. I just want to see them happier, especially Hikaru. And they do bring something different to the club."

"No question, though what they bring is usually more trouble than its worth."

His candor emboldens her to ask questions she would never have dared even a month ago. "Don't you like them?"

"They're alright."

"Do you think they're as close as they seem to be?"

"Well, if it's not genuine then they've mastered the art of deception to perfection. It _was_ Tamaki who instructed them in their little charade, though it wouldn't surprise me if their brotherly love act was more than just an act, except that's their business and none of mine. They're high maintenance, but they also bring in clients."

"Do you think about the club's finances all the time?"

"Someone has to do it. Tamaki is utterly incapable and uninterested in such practical matters as paying bills or drumming up business. He is, and forever _will_ be, a dreamer of impossible dreams that he somehow manifests into reality. It's quite a gift."

"So he dreams and you manifest? You're a good friend to him, aren't you?"

Kyoya withdraws his hand, looks away and drops his chin. "You have no idea." Something about the way he says that makes her wonder how far out on a limb Tamaki has made Kyoya go in their friendship. And again she senses a subtle discomfort in him. _It's not my business. _Still, it troubles her to see Kyoya downcast. Plus, she misses the touch of his hand.

"How do you feel about Mori and Honey?" she asks to change the topic.

He regards her once more. "They're reliable and round out the complement. It should be irrelevant, but given the way elite society views alternative lifestyles, it's best for them to maintain a low profile."

She cocks her head and pauses. _I've often wondered. _"You mean to say they're…"

"Hopelessly devoted to one another, whatever that means for them."

"You're pretty open-minded, aren't you? And perceptive. And tolerant."

"Skills developed out of necessity and applied in like manner."

"Or maybe just who you are beneath the façade."

"And just what kind of façade might that be, Miss I-pretend-to-be-a-boy-every-day?" _So, I've irked him. Must have come closer to the mark than he'd like to admit. _But it's better than depression.

"The one that pretends nothing really matters and it's all effortless. Meanwhile, you care enough to work extremely hard to ensure that it looks effortless - at least when it comes to Host Club though I suspect it goes beyond that."

"Hmpf. So, I'm open-minded, perceptive and tolerant? I was none of those things the day Tamaki dragged me to the mall, was I? In fact, if memory serves, I was rather rude to you."

"The guys told me they dragged you out against your will. I'd have been annoyed, too. It's not like they haven't pulled stunts like that on me, after all."

"True. In that case, if you would accept a belated apology, you have one."

"Accepted, and it only took you five months to give it."

"I'm improving then?" He arches his brow.

Her face scrunches into a small moue. "Kinda, sorta," she teases. "We've both changed a lot in the last year. Guess it means we're growing."

"Unfortunately, my father does not approve of personal growth unless it advances our family's reputation or fortune."

"He's very hard on you, isn't he? It's not fair."

"It's what he believes is best and it may well be. Hoping he'll change is no different than expecting a fish to act like a bird."

"That doesn't make it right and the longer you allow him to dictate your life, the harder it becomes to live it as your own."

His expression grows disagreeable, his eyes showing a flash of defensive anger. _Damn_. She reaches out and touches his arm, needing to make contact before he withdraws just as he's begun to open up to her.

"I don't mean to make you angry, Kyoya, but it must be difficult even if you do enjoy the challenge. I'm just saying that you have a choice about how you live your life. I've said so before."

His eyes soften and after a bit, the ire drains from him, the set of his shoulders easing. "Families are complicated. Isn't that what you told me?"

"I remember," she says quietly.

His eyes cast downward for several seconds. She waits, patient in the extreme. _What inner demons do you have to quell? I know I have mine. I just wish you'd trust me._

"I remember that, and a lot more about that day," he says before lifting his eyes slowly to meet hers once more. There, she reads his interest loud and clear.

"So do I," she says without hesitation, sliding her hand down until it rests atop his. His hand arches slightly beneath her palm and she expects he'll pull away. Instead, he twists it until their palms meet on a perpendicular and his fingers wrap around her hand entire. He slowly leans towards her tugging her hand towards him as he does so, forcing her to lean in, too.

It's just a matter of time until lips will follow hands.

End - Chapter 9 - Sway

**Author's Notes: For those of you doing a re-read, the answer is "yes, it's a bit different than the original." I've altered the staging to reflect a more accurate depiction of the Fujioka apartment which lacks Western decor. Just my need for precision in an imprecise world. **

* * *

Sway - Bic Runga [Haruhi-centric]

Don't stray. Don't ever go away.  
I should be much too smart for this.  
You know it gets the better of me.  
Sometimes, when you and I collide,  
I fall into an ocean of you.  
Pull me out in time.  
Don't let me drown, let me down.  
I say it's all because of you.

And here I go losing my control.  
I'm practicing your name  
So I can say it to your face.  
It doesn't seem right  
To look you in the eye.  
Let all the things you mean to me  
Come tumbling out my mouth.  
Indeed it's time. Tell you why  
I say it's infinitely true.

Say you'll stay.  
Don't come and go like you do.  
Sway my way.  
Yeah, I need to know all about you.

And there's no cure  
And no way to be sure  
Why everything's turned inside out,  
Instilling so much doubt.  
It makes me so tired.  
I feel so uninspired.  
My head is battling with my heart.  
My logic has been torn apart.  
And now it all turns sour.  
Come sweeten every afternoon.

Say you'll stay. (Refrain - 2x)  
Don't come and go like you do.  
Sway my way.  
Yeah, I need to know all about you.

It's all because of you. (2x)

Now it all turns sour.  
Come sweeten every afternoon.  
It's time. Tell you why  
I say it's infinitely true.

Say you'll stay. (Refrain 2x)  
Don't come and go like you do.  
Sway my way.  
Yeah, I need to know all about you.

It's all because of you. (3x)


	10. Pieces

**Chapter 10 - Pieces**

The air is suddenly very still and Einstein's theory becomes fact - time is relative. Haruhi knows this because she's lost all sense of time, focused only on Kyoya's gentle pull of her hand towards him as he leans in. Up close, the lenses of his glasses can't reflect or hide his feelings and what she sees in their smoky depths is a fire that burns beneath the cool exterior. A fire that burns for her. She takes in and releases a sharp breath.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, a high-pitched scree gains her attention. Haruhi realizes that it's nothing more than the tea kettle coming to a boil. It's been blaring for a while though she couldn't say for how long. Her eyes dart to the side and back to Kyoya's, a small look of apology on her face as she lifts her free hand and lets it drop backwards to point at the offending cookware.

"Let me just…get that," she says in a distracted manner. His expression doesn't change but she sees the bare nod of his head. Reluctantly, she pulls her hand from his. At the counter, she turns down the burner to simmer and stares into space. _I must be crazy. This will never work out. We're too young. We're headed in different directions. We live in different worlds. _She pulls open the cabinet at eye level. _We're friends. Isn't that enough? _She removes a canister, opens it. Her mind says, "That's best." Her heart says, "No, not nearly_."_

The canister is empty. "What? I just bought some last week." Ever practical, mundane concerns distract her momentarily. She looks up and sees a sealed package on the top shelf. Without turning around she says, "My dad has a habit of moving things around without telling me. Hang on."

She reaches up and plucks at the edge of the bag with her fingertips. Instead of slipping forwards, it slips back. A frustrated groan escapes her. Standing on tip-toe she tries again but the bag pushes even further back. Then Kyoya is behind her, reaching up without effort, retrieving the bag and setting it on the counter before her.

"Uh, um…thank you," she stammers, his warmth at her back refocusing her attention immediately and kicking up her pulse rate.

"Not a problem," he answers, his voice low.

She expects him to step back, but he doesn't. He's exactly where she wants him to be, but now that he's there, she doesn't know what to do. Without thinking she pushes backwards in a weak attempt to move away. Instead, she feels his body press closer, his hands coming to rest on either side of her to grip the counter's edge. Her breath comes shorter and she wets her lips gone dry.

A strange sensation begins to overtake her - it's probably just endorphins penetrating her brain cells, but Haruhi feels a little reckless knowing that all she need do is lean back and he's there. He's there. She doesn't dare speak. _This isn't like me at all._

"Haruhi," he speaks softly, his head dipping to the side of her head. "Let's be honest."

"Hh?" is all she can mange, growing still but for the subtle tremor that's overtaken her.

"Because I was less than honest when I said you've had an impact on the club."

Her brow crinkles. "Oh?"

"Of course you _have_," he says with his mouth close beside her ear. "And I appreciate your contributions. I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that." His breath is warm and his hands move to hold her by the upper arms, keeping her in place. "Truth is, you've had an impact on _me_," he continues his voice nearly a whisper. "I can't stop thinking about you." He nudges his nose against her ear. Her eyelids drop close at the shiver that starts there then shimmers throughout the rest of her body.

Haruhi is stunned to learn that his feelings mirror her own. _That means…_ He pulls away and her thought is disturbed, all energy channeled into the overwhelming need to have him close again. She's bereft until she feels his lips press a gentle kiss into her hair. She leans back into him, relieved and unable to refrain from making contact.

He slowly turns her in place, hands guiding her until she faces him. She's hesitant to meet his gaze, but she needs to know. She's seen Kyoya's predatory eyes when he's fixated on something and she needs to understand where he's coming from if they are to move forward. She looks up not knowing what to expect, but his regard is strangely mild, almost…open.

"Here we are, again," he says.

_Is he serious or teasing? _She's not sure how to respond so she says the first thing that pops into her head. "Only now I've kissed a boy." She groans inwardly. _Talk about lame. He'll think I'm an idiot like Tamaki. _

"Any good?" he asks as if inquiring about the school's lunch menu, but a smile pulls at one corner of his mouth.

_Oh-kay. He __**is**__ teasing. _"Not bad, but then what do I know? I'm not very experienced in these things." She tries to sound casual.

"No," he says calmly. "You aren't like most sixteen year old girls, that's certain."

His eyes take on a slightly more intense quality. A flicker of insecurity and one particular possibility plagues her. She considers not mentioning it, but can't refrain. "Does that mean I'm a curiosity - a commoner you find intriguing enough to seduce but no more than that?" She tries to keep her tone even, not accusatory, but she sees the flash of hurt in his eyes. It can't be helped.

His grip on her tightens just a bit and he leans his face towards hers. "Is that what you believe?"

Her gaze focuses intensely on his, as if she can glean the truth from him that way. "What else am I to think? We've known each other for nearly a year and it's only in the last two weeks that you say you've been thinking about me and that, after kissing me. Maybe that's all you want."

He lifts his head and breathes out through his nose, but he isn't defensive. He pushes at his glasses, allowing his hands to drop to his side. He pushes them into his pockets and Haruhi wonders if she's made a mistake.

"From your perspective," he says, "It must be suspect. Experience is the best teacher in such things, but your _posing_ as a boy has made advances from real boys non-existent. I suppose I am drawn to your naivete, but that's not a bad thing. I just never acted on it, for various reasons, until recently."

She's both flattered and annoyed. "You suppose? So you're still not sure about it; hedging your bets like it's a business transaction." She presses her hands against the center of his chest and pushes him back an inch or two. "I'm not a transaction, Kyoya. I'm a person. And what's up with saying I'm naive? That's just rude."

His visage is calm in the face of her irritation, but there's a shift in his posture - a few moments of indecision as his mouth opens, then closes again. "You're right," he admits at last. "On both counts. I apologize to you, Haruhi. All I'm trying to say is that you don't play head games the way other girls do_."_

"I couldn't if I tried and I don't want to try. I just want to be me."

He gives a small smile. "Even so, you're still somewhat of a puzzle and I…want to know you better, but I don't blame you for being cautious. I don't have the warm fuzzy image that some others do. In fact, I'm a hard ass, plain and simple."

Her irritation fizzles. "You're a puzzle to me, too. And I don't mind you being a hard ass as long as you're honest with me. It's what's inside a person what matters most, anyway, and I know you're a good person, senpai. Sorry if _I_ was impolite." She regrets being cross with him, but he might as well know who she is from the get-go. _And if that's the end of it, that's the end of it._

"On the contrary. It's no more than what I expect from you."

"What does _that_ mean?"

He cocks his head and regards her. "In all the time I've known you, you've stayed true to yourself despite my often scathing attempts to rattle you into revealing weakness. You've managed the overly tactile Hitachiins, resisted Tamaki's charms, impressed Mori and I think Honey wants to adopt you. All this by keeping your head on straight and your values intact. I admire that immensely."

"Do you?" She feels the weight of his compliment as one not easily given, though she's tempted to continue poking at him to even the score, if only a little.

He un-pockets his hands and crosses his arms, adding with a sough of breath, "And the fact that you're willing to call me on my...bad habits...is...what I... need."

She feels the difficulty he's having in opening himself to her. _What you need?_ _Ootori Kyoya is self-sufficent, no? _He's never shared this much of himself in the entire time she's known him. _But…_

"What about Tamaki?" She's taken aback by the startled look on his face that he quickly brings under control.

"What about him?" He sounds cool enough, but it's a little forced.

"He's your best friend. Doesn't he call you on your bad habits?"

An odd chuckle emerges from him as he looks away, then back, leaving her confused. "Let's just say that what I thought might be an obstacle in approaching you is no longer an impediment."

"What are you talking about? Who's an obstacle? Tamaki? What's he got to do with it, besides thinking he's my dad which he's not and driving me generally crazy, though not in an altogether bad way?"

He considers her for a few moments. "You always speak your mind, don't you?"

"What's the point in doing otherwise?"

"I happen to agree with you. Sugar-coating and avoiding hard truths are commonplace. It takes a strong ego to face life realistically and most people are weak."

"I think people are who they are. The real trick is finding the positive in the not-so-positive. For example, Tamaki is melodramatic, but genuinely interested in people. The twins are twisted but their bond is unshakeable. There's something noble in that. Mori and Honey are a closed circuit, but they're scholar-athletes who inspire their classmates."

"And what's my redeeming quality, if I have one?" He tries to make it sound off-handed, but his focus reveals his full attention.

_Aside from how you make me feel? _She smiles with a bit of a twinkle in her eyes. "You...have a lot of qualities that I respect. And…" she pauses, aware now of how he views her frankness. "I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I've been thinking about you, too."

His head straightens and she notes the subtle flare of his nostrils, the way his pupils open just a bit more. "Have you?"

"And if I'm going to speak my mind, as you say, then I have a question for you."

"Which would be?"

Looking into his discerning dark eyes, she reminds herself that she's ready for something other than friendship. _Maybe he's looking for the same_. She looks downward and takes in a deep breath to boost her courage. _The time to hesitate is through._ She looks up and releases the air. "I was wondering...Could you please kiss me again? Right now?"

His smile is sweet and dangerous simultaneously. He doesn't say a word, but unwinds his arms and steps in closer. Their eyes are locked on one another and she feels herself short of breath as he takes her face between his hands, closing the gap between them. She's trembling when he tips it upwards and, as her eyes close, feels his lips meet hers. She slides her arms around his waist but holds herself separate from him.

His early kisses are soft teases against her closed lips that only serve to inflame her need. Her frustration reaches a breaking point and she tugs his lower lip between hers and deepens the kiss herself. His response is immediate as strong arms enfold her and she surrenders into him, their bodies conforming to one another in a close embrace. Their mouths are melded, soft and warm with a gentle push-pull that intensifies the sensations that rocket to her core igniting something deep and languorous; indigo swirls of relaxation colliding with whorls of scarlet pleasure that mix and flush through her, desire lifting sleepy eyes in awakening.

When she attempts to pull back, he doesn't allow it. His lips slowly capture over and again her upper, then her lower lip both slightly parted as she tries to draw air, clutching at his back to stay balanced under his tantalizing assault. The full press of his body against hers feels incredibly right and she grows a little weak at the knees. _I'm such a cliche but please, please don't stop._ She can't describe how she feels because it's all so new, but she's certain she'll never grow tired of it, not with him.

They break contact and without a word, Kyoya takes her hand and tugs her into the living room. With his back against the wall, they slide to the floor until they're sitting snuggly beside each other, Haruhi turned into him, their chests against one another's as they entwine arms. Her small frame is pure heat against his lanky coolness. With her eyes closed, she doesn't know when he removes his glasses but they're missing when she lifts a hand to comb through the silky hair she only imagined between her fingers before. His own hand snakes through her hair at the back of her head, coaxing her head back to taste her mouth at a new angle while his other hand strokes down her arm and along her waist, then stops.

Brief kisses evolve into longer ones. When his tongue licks against her lips, she greets it with her own. Neither of them dominates for very long as they explore one another's mouths through a slide of tongues, a graze of teeth and the tug of lips wet with shared need. A ribbon of heat wends to her core and moisture seeps between her legs. She can't help but voice her heightened state of sensitivity with an involuntary mewl. _This is what I want._

She's lit from within, reservations lost in sensation, lost in him. Her hand drops against his chest, over his heart where she feels the pounding that matches her own. His lifts his head and they're both softly panting. Haruhi's eyes remain half lidded as her fingers rise to trace his mouth.

"Am I dreaming or am I awake?" she wonders staring up into his handsome face.

"Which do you prefer?" he asks before taking her index finger into his mouth and sucking on it.

The feel of his mouth closed around her digit is novel, shocking in the way her body responds. "Oh," she breathes as she withdraws her finger..."I want this to be real." He takes the next one and repeats his libation..."or I don't ever want to wake up."...the next..."Kyoya."...the last. She's weak, breathing shallow, surprised at the way her body is responding, but nonetheless craving more.

"Um-hmm," he agrees before feeding on her mouth again. She's somewhat faint as he steals her breath over and over. There's no mistaking his arousal that begins to press against her thigh or the way she wonders what it would feel like to have him touch her and for her to touch him more intimately. Regardless of where it all ends, she imprints these moments into memory.

End - Chapter 10 - Pieces

**A/N: A nod to Lullabyes, whose incredible work inspires me to push harder at writing better. Thank you.**

* * *

Pieces - Cider Sky [Haruhi x Kyoya-centric]

From head to heart  
I've never felt the ocean floor.  
To start, I've never been spun like this before.  
I'm going to blame it all on you.

And this beat so hot;  
I'm never gonna come back down the slide.  
I've never felt oh so bold, so shy.  
So tell me what you want to do.

I don't ever feel lost when you're holding my hand.  
All the world can hear us  
When I'm holding pieces of you,  
Pieces of me.  
We fit together perfectly and I am falling.  
Now I'm falling for pieces of you.

The way you hit my heart  
I know it's not logical.  
It's like an arrow shot through the dark so hard  
The colors all fall apart.

I say it's impossible  
How everything feels so magical.  
You turn up all the lights. It's beautiful.  
I fall into the moon.

I don't ever feel lost when  
I'm holding pieces of you,  
Pieces of me.  
We fit together perfectly and I am falling.  
Now I'm falling.

Follow, follow, follow and you run to me.  
Echo, echo. I know this is meant to be.  
Follow, follow, follow and you run to me.  
You run to me.

Pieces of you. Pieces of me.  
We fit together perfectly and I am falling.  
Now I'm falling for pieces of you, pieces of me.  
We fit together perfectly.  
I am falling. Now I'm falling for pieces of you.


	11. Long Shot

**Chapter 11 - Long Shot**

Intimate electro-chemical impulses of mind, body and emotion spark a lightning storm in Kyoya's mind - arcing fiercely to connect that which is unconnected. Pleasure, worry, want and care are complexed together in the beginnings of…love? No, he won't put that name to it, but the possibility exists.

She pulls her lips away from his and he already knows he'll never get enough of her kisses, will always want more, wants more right now_. _Thoughts usually crisp and defined are foggy with desire._ I want you, Haruhi. More than you know._ He pulls her further into his lap, pressing his lips into the soft niche of her neck, inhaling her scent mixed with a simple two-note fragrance she must only wear outside of school. _How did I wait so long for this? _Her hand on his chest feels possessive. _How did I miss the changes happening right under my nose? _He feels her pushing him back. _I'm a dummy __and__ an idiot._

"We need to- slow down," Haruhi says breathlessly.

_Not…yet_ his brain processes in slow motion. He drags himself away from what is already his drug of choice with a small groan of disappointment, lifting his head, his breathing somewhat calmer though not yet normal.

She leans her cheek against his shoulder, sliding her hand around his neck. He's surprised to find that he likes the way she clings to him, her slight form triggering protective feelings thoroughly unlike his compulsion to safeguard investments or look out for his friends. She's a friend, too, but he wants more than that. Much, much more. They all did, but somewhere along the way, the idea of anyone other than himself with Haruhi became unbearable. Even if it _was_ Tamaki-

The unforgettable face of the blond in the throes of passion creep into his mind. So inconvenient. _Step off Suoh. I'm not thinking about you right now and certainly not that way. But I am. Dammit. _He wonders if he's ruined their friendship for the sake of friendship but also why it felt so…natural…to him_. I shouldn't feel that way. Should I?_ He soughs with some force.

"Are you okay?" Haruhi asks.

His attitude and his expression soften. "You're here with me. How could I be otherwise?" He pulls her legs up and over both of his so that she's cradled sideways in his lap, anchored within his arms. He focuses on the way she feels, her warm presence warding off other thoughts best kept at bay. He holds her closer and she hums. _I like that._

He'd set out to win her and win her he would. She has feelings for him, so she must also feel the attraction, even when they banter. No, especially when they banter. _I wonder if she's as challenging between the sheets. Hnn. Should be fun to find out. But slowly, slowly, slowly Ootori. Move too fast and you'll lose her. She's a nice girl. No. She's a very nice girl_.

"Haru," he breathes at her temple using the most intimate form of her name, "I've been wanting this."

"Then why-?"

"Haven't I acted sooner? It's not important. What matters is what happens next."

"What do you mean? We're just getting started." She tenses in his arms, her tone nervous. It's confusing until he realizes s_he thinks I'm pushing her. Once again, we're on different semantic pages._ He smiles to himself.

"I'm talking about tomorrow, at school. I heard what you said, Haruhi. I'm okay with it."

"Oh, sorry," she says, dropping her eyes and biting her lip but relaxing her body again. _But if you change your mind..._

He leans back and fumbles with one hand for his glasses on the floor beside them to better see her. They're in his hand and he's poised to put them back on.

"Wait," she says.

"What is it?"

Her hand unwinds from his neck and lightly grabs the hand that holds the glasses. She looks up into his face. "Let me see you without them." He allows her a few seconds but grows uncomfortable under her gaze, a cold pit in his stomach. Her words are too similar to Tamaki's in the back seat of the limo on Friday night. _Don't go there._

"What's wrong?" Haruhi asks in response to his distress.

"Nothing. I'd like to put them on now, please." He resets the specs on his nose without waiting for her response and immediately feels better with his personal shield in place. She pulls back and looks at him. "I'm fine." The soulful eyes of the girl in his arms makes him feel as if he could tell her anything and she might just understand. _Would you be hurt? Angry? Disgusted? What would you say? _He decides._ Best not to say anything at all._

She nestles back against him. They sit quietly, hands lightly clutching, fingers randomly stroking one another's, soaking in the newness of what's emerging between them.

He looks down unimpeded to simply watch her in a way he's never had cause nor permission to do. _So pretty no matter how she rebuffs the idea._ Beneath the softer features of youth waits a beautiful woman yet to emerge. And though her under-developed body of last year fooled the vast majority accustomed to believing what they're told, her maturing is bringing the ability to hide her gender to a close. But_ how anyone paying attention could ever think she's a boy is ludicrous. Her movements have always belied her gender. Boys move like boys and Haruhi…doesn't. Never has. She lacks familial training in etiquette and poise, but her charms are unique and obvious to anyone with a shrewd eye._

His eyes drop to where the top buttons of her blouse are undone, the fabric gapping so he unwittingly sees the curved rise of a breast covered in a basic white bra. _Sensible. To be expected, but still so very sexy._ He imagines the contours of her breast without fabric, nipple raised with his mouth on it. _Stop before you embarrass yourself._ But his brain has taken a vacation as his pulse races and he continues indulging his imagination.

Actually, he finds a woman's derrière to be her most enticing attribute. Haruhi's gifts in that regard have only been recently revealed by the fitted dress she recently and interestingly modeled, disengaging his brain from his netbook to a more organic location for some time - a rare feat indeed, demolishing permanently any idea that he could step away without sampling. And now that perfect bottom is resting on his thighs. He releases a small audible sigh.

"Kyoya?" Her soft contralto cuts through his ever-present thoughts and he looks into her large, luminous eyes. He could lose himself in those eyes, so trusting and without pretense. No expectations. No agenda at all. He feels oddly short of breath.

"What- is it?" She shifts in his lap, the sliding motion of her denimed legs over his sensitized crotch amping his blood as he thinks about how close certain body parts are at this very moment. The surefire combination of physical nearness and mental readiness further rushes blood from his brain to his groin and he feels his jeans grow more uncomfortable.

_Stay cool Ootori. She'll clock you if you don't and all your efforts will be for naught._ Keeping one's head in business is a necessity, but here? _Probably more so._ It just feels so good to be turned on by a live girl instead of the cheap imitation that porn offers, useful as it is. And when said live girl is Fujioka Haruhi, he can't be held accountable for behaving out of character.

"Does this mean…" She pauses. He waits. "What I mean is…" Another pause…

_So, not quite as bold and confident as either of us thought, hm? Or perhaps you just want me to take the lead on this. I like the sound of that, but there's no reason not to have a little fun with it. _He adopts a serious face as he deadpans, "If you're asking if today's conduct constitutes a shift in our relationship, I would have to say...perhaps."

"What?" her surprise is genuine and her irritation more so. He stifles a smile.

"Haruhi, if we are to begin a more than 'just friends' relationship, there are certain things I would require of you." Push.

Her back straightens and her mouth is set. She's not angry, just focused. _Not jumping to conclusions. Good._

"And what, exactly, do you require?" She pauses then puts up a hand. "Wait. Before you answer, let me tell you what I require, shall I?"

"By all means." _This should be interesting._

She moves off his lap and he briefly regrets his tactic. _Still, one always starts with the end in mind making interim setbacks a learning tool._ With the short term goal of kissing her again and the long term goal being obvious, he's curious to know her thoughts. And being able to roam her body with his eyes openly is a step in the right direction. _Merit isn't always monetary._ This, he's always known.

Haruhi stands above him and, for a change, he's the one who has to look up. _An interesting perspective._ "So, Ootori-senpai, it is with respect and courtesy that I inform you that this person named Fujioka Haruhi is not to be taken lightly or for granted. And I'm not to be treated any differently than before. Is my debt still in place?"

"Of course, unless you want to-"

"Don't say it," she commands.

_Pay with your body. _He puts up two hands in surrender.

He's heard her stern voice before, usually chastising the twins. He hears it again now, slightly modified. "I will not resort to hiding the fact that we're together but I don't want to advertise it, either. Our parents should know and our friends. I want to be able to spend time with you, doing things together and learning about one another."

"Anything else?" he asks without inflection. _I so want to kiss you right now._

"As the club's director and as director there _only_," she says with a pointed look at him as his brows arch. "I'm letting you know that I'm keeping my current club standing, wardrobe and clients. I hate that ugly yellow dress, anyway."

"Don't we all? Awful design, worse color. Pale blue blazers aren't much better." He winks at her.

She smiles at that, her lecture easing. "So, until we figure out how we can do this without creating a scene, you'll have to accept being thought of as gay at Ouran, or at least bisexual." She stops then and her shoulders sag. She turns away from him and looks out the window over the sink. When she speaks again, her voice is quieter with a trace of sadness. "Frankly," she says, "I don't know how this is going to work."

He shares her concern. In fact, more than one; but he won't give her up. "Breaking up with me already?"

She turns around to face him again. Her eyes are a bit too bright. "Maybe we should keep things quiet. O-oh. I don't know."

Her unhappiness troubles him. _It can't be too long before everything comes to light. And if it will make her happy... _"Hmmm," he muses, standing and crossing over to her and running a hand through her hair before caressing her cheek. "I see. I can't say that being seen as a gay couple is without its risks to both of us. However, if things become difficult we can always opt for your coming out, as it were, as a female. In the meantime, the more overt behaviors inherent in dating can remain discreet."

"I'm not big on romance anyway. I could do that."

"Haruhi, you should know that I don't do things half-way."

"But you're okay with that arrangement?" She's not heard him but no matter. His hand drops to her shoulder.

"There will be conditions." She nods and he continues, "Since our weekday contact will be limited to time spent at club, I would suggest we meet unobserved before school starts." Her brows lift in surprise. "Make time in the prep room before club." Her eyes grow wider. "Or after hours. That's how we started after all. I can arrange it."

He can almost see the images playing in her mind and definitely the ones in his. She blinks several times and he allows his features to soften, the sides of his mouth turning up. Her cheeks grow pink and she smiles shyly as comprehension dawns that he's teasing, but also means exactly what he says.

"Must you always have an answer?"

"It seemed that you were looking for one. I simply accommodated."

"On your terms."

"I've agreed to yours. Agreeing to mine seems equitable. Weekends, of course, are another matter."

"And must you be enigmatic?

"Is that what I am?"

"Don't play dumb with me," she chides. "I do think it's more de-fense than of-fense, anyway."

"If you expect me to validate your Freudian meanderings regarding my personality or state of mind, know that I've already been analyzed once and deemed of sound mind. Materialistic, pragmatic and overly intellectual perhaps, but those are traits my family encourages and I, after all, am an Ootori."

"And I'm a Fujioka whose family encourages accepting people for who they are and working hard to make your dreams come true."

"Noble attributes. Does cross-dressing also run in the family?" _Shiite. Why did I just say that? Stupid. _"Haruhi, I'm- I'm terribly sorry. I apologize for such a crude remark." He's genuinely pissed at himself and worried about her reaction. Her startled expression fades, replaced by crinkles around her eyes as she subtly squints and screws up delectable lips. She crosses her arms and he drops his hand to his side. _I am so dead._

He says nothing as their first misunderstanding as a couple plays out. He can do no more than he's done. Her response will be telling. "Well," she says after a minute, "at least your timing of apologies has improved." Her features relax into neutrality. She's quiet for several seconds more before finally saying in a quiet voice, "Forgiven."

The tension in his shoulders leaks away._ Just like that? It can't be that easy._ He knows how his parents fight - his father's disparaging words, his mother's tears, then no talking for days at a time. _I don't want that. _He wishes he could make her smile again, but she remains serious.

"You've a sharp mind, Kyoya. What does your qualitative risk analysis tell you about us?"

He's taken aback. "I'm impressed you know that term, Haruhi." Push.

"I am taking Business Admin as an elective and I'm very good at Math. The odds aren't favorable for us, are they?"

"We're a long shot, but not an impossibility." _No point in ignoring the truth._

"Will it hurt the club?" _The club?_

"You really care about it."

"Course I do. I care about the guys and our guests. I enjoy it, Kyoya. I really do. But most of all, _you_ care about it. That makes it important to _me_."

_Wait. What?_ If not for the fact that he's a master of the cool front, his jaw would have dropped. The idea of someone considering his feelings isn't altogether unusual. Tamaki does, often enough; the other hosts to varying degrees. Fuyumi tries, too. But now, here, to have his feelings used as a benchmark for someone _else's_ happiness is novel and nearly incomprehensible. He feels a mild constriction around his heart without knowing why.

What he does know is that he's been captured by the least likely female at Ouran Academy to snag the elusive Ootori Kyoya. _Could she be that clever? Or am I just that enamored?_ The freshness of it requires thought he's unable to give right now, so he sets it aside, responding in a level voice, "I don't favor hosts dating. It creates outside alliances and triggers guest jealousies. But then, I am a club officer so I can make an exception based on the fact that you're a host yourself and that you don't act like a typical girl."

She rolls her eyes. "Gee thanks, I guess."

"I mean that as compliment, Haruhi. Your body language and movement have always been feminine, at least to me. But from an emotional or behavioral standpoint you're atypical. You don't fawn, you don't intentionally flirt - until recently, you're unconcerned with frivolous things, and you're certainly not in need of rescuing or coddling." _Enough talk, Ootori. _

He reaches out a hand which Haruhi takes, allowing him to pull her back into his arms. "I did say slow down, remember?" she reminds, her arms wrapped around his waist, eyes shining, lips inviting. Her smile has returned.

_Good. _"We'll take it as slow as you need. You'll just have to forgive me if I forget," he replies. She slants her face towards his. He steps them back, sitting down on the table with Haruhi in his lap. He rubs his nose against hers softly saying, "We'll do things your way until we don't. And for the record, you're definitely an intelligent and beautiful young woman, but I knew that _and_ who you were from the start."

She murmurs, "So you knew there was no way in hell that I could pay for that vase I broke?" Her words puff breath against his mouth.

"Actually, that vase was a reproduction." _Did I just admit that?_

"No way," Her wide eyes stare into his.

"Of course, it did have value; just...not 800,000 yen." The last three words are glossed over.

"How much?" she queries in a gravelly voice. _Damn._

"Value? Oh, I'd say 150,000 yen, give or take a few hundred." Their foreheads are pressed together. "But how else was I going to make sure you stayed around long enough for me to figure you out? I told you, you're a puzzle and I enjoy solving them." He reads evaluation in her eyes about his revelation.

"Anything else I should know?" she asks evenly. _How to answer without being dishonest?_

"In due time. I'm being up front. Isn't that what you want?"

"It is. And I like solving puzzles, too, so we're alike in that regard. I'm also thinking my debt is repaid."

"We'll have to recalculate, later. Meanwhile," he says in a quieter manner with the hand on her legs creeping upwards along the outside of her thigh. Maybe we can put our pieces together, together. Hmm?" The tip of his tongue daubs his upper lip in anticipation, his pulse quickening once more.

"As in…" She adds, her breath coming shorter.

Slowly, he lists, "Female, male. Lock…key. You." He places a small kiss on her lips. "Me." He captures her lips again and lingers. Despite his intention to cool things down, they're reheating quickly. Their kiss is gentle and sweet, but even that is more than enough to revitalize his half-mast status.

Still caught in her spell, unable to decide whether to press further or just enjoy, Kyoya picks up the sound of footsteps approaching outside the kitchen window and Ranka's voice singing a pop tune, growing louder by the second.

Haruhi pushes away. "Oh, for feng shui!" she exclaims. She jumps up onto unsteady feet, combing fingers through her hair. The sharp sound of a key rattling the door fills the apartment along with Kyoya's quiet laughter.

End - Chapter 11 - Long Shot

* * *

Long Shot - Nevertheless [Kyoya-centric]

What if the fire burns out?  
What if we're left without  
Anyone to call our own?  
You've got it figured out.  
If ever you're in doubt,  
You never have to be alone.

People they come and people they go.  
I could be wrong but there's one thing I know.

It's a long shot (baby).  
Some day both of us will die.  
So I was thinking maybe,  
I could be your semi-perfect guy.  
You don't know me (baby),  
But I was hoping we could try  
for a long shot, you and I.

What if we take a chance?  
What if you break your plans  
And let me sweep you off your feet?  
You say you hate romance,  
But I'm a persistent man  
And I want you here with me.

People they come and people they go.  
I could be wrong but there's one thing I know.

It's a long shot (baby).  
Some day both of us will die.  
So I was thinking maybe,  
I could be your semi-perfect guy.  
You don't know me (baby),  
But I was hoping we could try  
for a long shot, you and I.

I've been praying all my life for love that's true,  
But I never thought I'd get a girl like you.  
Oh, can't you see heaven sent you to me?

It's a long shot (baby). (Refrain 2x)  
Some day both of us will die.  
So I was thinking maybe,  
I could be your semi-perfect guy.  
You don't know me (baby),  
But I was hoping we could try  
for a long shot, you and I.


	12. You'll Never Be Alone

**Chapter 12 - You'll Never Be Alone**

Haruhi turns, glances at Kyoya, body returned into a proper seiza position. She groans. With one deft move, she steps in, flips the newspaper he's not actually reading right side up and skips back into the kitchen to spoon tea into the ceramic teapot with shaky fingers. _Not so cool after all, eh?_

The entry door swings wide and Ranka enters. Haruhi turns her face to him with a smile. "Hey Dad. Welcome back." Kyoya stands and moves to meet the okama with a formal bow of respect. _What's that about? At least Dad seems pleased. _

"Well, hello Kyoya. Haruhi," he says looking at her, "I thought you weren't expecting visitors today."

"Uhhhh…" she utters, her mind suddenly blank.

"Fujioka-sama, I must say you're looking very well today. That's quite a becoming outfit on you," Kyoya says in perfect host fashion. Haruhi returns to her task, filling the teapot with boiled water and covering it to steep.

"This old thing?" Ranka presses a hand to his cheek. "You're sweet to say so. And please call me Ranka. I've told you that before."

"You wear it so well, Ranka. I'd never have guessed," he smiles as he flatters the older man.

Kyoya's reputation for staying calm, cool and collected is well-deserved as he's unobtrusively positioned himself between Ranka and Haruhi, one hand behind his back giving Haruhi a thumbs up.

She sees it and smiles to herself as she turns her back to them and retrieves her dad's favorite mug from the bottom shelf of the cabinet. She adds it the cups on the table, expression unreadable. Ranka sits down cross-legged where Kyoya was originally and Kyoya moves around him to sit on the opposite side of the table in like fashion.

"I merely dropped by to return an umbrella that Haruhi left at school. I was also hoping to speak with you about a few things."

"So thoughtful of you, really Kyoya." Ranka moves the china into place for Kyoya, Haruhi and himself. "Haru-chan, would you pull out the special napkins, please?"

"Dad, it's just Kyoya-sempai," she says, pretending to be annoyed. She turns her head to the side more than necessary so her dad can't see the wink she casts across the table. Kyoya is a sphinx.

"Don't be silly. He's our guest. I did teach you manners, didn't I?" Ranka reminds with some seriousness.

She turns away with a hopefully realistic guff and opening the drawer of a side cabinet, removes three fine linen napkins each embroidered with a flower at one corner. She places them at each setting.

Kyoya takes one in hand. "The needlework on these is quite exquisite," he comments and Haruhi can tell that he means it.

"Kotoko did them," Ranka says with some pride. "She said each flower meant something special."

''They do," Kyoya instructs. "If I'm not mistaken daisies represent innocence, the hyacinth sincerity and the apple blossom denotes promise."

"How do you know that, senpai?" Haruhi asks using the honorific intentionally.

"Knowing such things is basic, isn't it?"

Ranka intervenes, "Of course it would be for a well-raised young man like yourself. Kotoko would be charmed to know you're aware of such things. She was always so busy, yet she always found time to make things special."

"She sounds like an amazing woman. Haruhi sometimes speaks of her, but I'd love to know more."

"Would you? Then you must visit us more often on your own. It's always so confusing when all you boys are here. I don't know who to talk to first."

"I'd like to, if Haruhi agrees." Kyoya looks over to her.

Her lips hold an innocent smile but her eyes pin him._ Think you're smooth, don't you? Buttering up my dad all along._ "This is the 21st century isn't it? So why am I feeling like I'm in feudal Japan?"

Meanwhile, Ranka looks like the cat that got the cream. "Haru-chan," he sing-songs, "Would you get daddy's other slippers? My feet are positively killing."

"Sure." She sets the teapot on a trivet on the table. "Help yourselves." She looks directly at Kyoya when she adds in an innocent tone of voice, "You're good at that, aren't you?"

She turns without waiting to see his expression and heads into her father's bedroom and rummages through the bottom of his over-stuffed wardrobe to find a pair of plushy slippers in a tiger print.

She's about to return and then suddenly she stops dead in her tracks, slippers in hand. She can't hear the entire conversation, but she catches snippets of her dad and Kyoya speaking to one another.

"…been in contact for awhile, doesn't mean I'm partial…"

"…intentions are honorable…"

"You'll regret ever having heard the name Fujioka Ryoji."

_It's positively surreal. My dad, the transvestite, is sitting in our parlor talking to the son of one of Japan's elite who, it just so happens, has maneuvered himself into my home to become a bit more than just a friend. And now Dad's playing tough guy. Enter tiger print slippers - the perfect accessory for a wannabe matchmaking father._

Her laughter rises slowly, then overtakes her. She leans against the wall, a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound.

"Haruhi? Are you alright?" Ranka calls out. She gets herself under control lest both men think she's lost it completely. _Maybe I have. Or maybe I'm just happy. _

When she returns, it's with a straight face. The two men watch her approach, Ranka's expression doting and Kyoya's shining with satisfaction.

"Here you go, Dad."

She sees Kyoya look at the slippers, then her. She shrugs and smiles. He shakes his head at her but his eyes gleam. _Just what were you two talking about and why do I have the feeling it's about me?_

"Ranka," Kyoya says, keeping his eyes on Haruhi, "I'd like your permission to take Haruhi out this evening."

Haruhi's eyes widen but she says nothing.

"It is a school night," Ranka muses, a finger pressed to his lips.

"I'll have her home by eleven-thirty."

"Hmmm…"

"Excuse me," Haruhi looks to her father, then back to Kyoya. "But maybe someone should ask me what _I_ think?"

A subtle challenge comes from Kyoya's amused eyes. "Interested?"

_Confident, much? _"Am I allowed to know our destination?" _Have to keep you humble, don't I?_

"Ballet at the National Theater. They're performing Bugaku this evening and I'd very much like you to accompany me, with your father's permission, of course."

She can't pretend not to be excited. She's loved ballet ever since her first exposure during a middle school field trip. Haruhi looks to Ranka who sits quietly, his hands wrapped around a mug of tea, regarding her. He won't tell her what to do, but his lack of objection speaks volumes.

"By what time do I need to be ready?"

"I'll pick you up at six. Dinner first, then theater."

She tries to read his expression which is serene, an even smile on his lips. _No, you're definitely not Buddha, Ootori Kyoya, and I'm not completely naïve about this setup. Still, I did enjoy your company this afternoon, admittedly a lot. _A sigh grips her._ Actually, more than a lot._

"Fine," she says without expression. "I'll see you at six."

Ranka stands and carries on, "Ahh, the ballet. So romantic. Now, I really must excuse myself." He turns to Kyoya who has also risen to his feet. "A pleasure, as always. Please see Kyoya out, Haruhi." He leaves them and enters his bedroom, snicking the door behind him.

They walk the short distance to the door. She extends his coat and scarf. As he folds them over his arm, she says in a quiet voice to keep her dad from hearing, "I have to say you're definitely The Cool Type."

"A cultivated skill that sometimes comes in handy."

"Tell me something," she says then stops. She shakes her head. "No, forget it."

"Ask me, Haruhi. Remember, it's what you do."

A mischievous smile takes hold of her. "I've seen you guys when you get a little flustered at club. Sometimes, you excuse yourselves for a bit and I do know why. I'm wondering how you got things under control today when my dad barged in."

"You don't really want to know, do you?"

"Absolutely, positively…yes."

He sighs and looks at her from over his glasses, a move she's beginning to find somewhat endearing, as if he's allowing her to see a hidden part of himself. "Well, to be perfectly honest, what usually works is thinking of my father dressed up in a huge Usa-chan costume."

Haruhi can't stop herself from laughing out loud. Kyoya presses his lips together but stays calm. "That would do it, I guess." She chuckles to herself a bit more. "You aren't offended that I'm laughing about this, are you?"

"Not at all. When I arrived today, you'd been crying and I still don't know why. But, at least now I've made you laugh."

"I never realized you had such a sense of humor." A final chortle bubbles up.

"A sense of irony, perhaps; but if you wish to consider it humor, I won't argue...if it pleases you."

"It does."

"Then I shall try to think of ironic and humorous things to tell you over dinner."

"You're on."

"Always," he says with a slight smile and a twinkle in his eye. _Since when do Kyoya's eyes twinkle?_

"And thank you again for returning my umbrella." She opens the door and he takes a step out the door before leaning back in to capture her chin.

"You're welcome. Perhaps, one day, we'll share it."

He leans in to steal a final kiss, but Haruhi gives him a gentle shove. "Only if you're worthy. I'll see you later," she says.

Kyoya steps outside, but stops to look back at her. She meets his eyes with a look that says, 'Got a problem with that?' He smiles to himself, then heads to the street, donning his outerwear along the way.

She closes the door behind him and leans her back against it, remembering their heated exchange with an audible sigh. She pulls herself away and walks over to the family shrine. She kneels before Kotoko's photograph. _Thanks for the advice today, Mom. I think I'll be okay. _In her mind she hears Kotoko's voice saying, "Anytime."

Ranka pokes his head out of his door. "All clear?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Saying hello to Mom?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Send my love."

"Yes, Dad."

"Could you please stop saying 'Yes, Dad'?"

"Ummm…Yes, Dad?"

Ranka comes out of his room just as Haruhi is rising from her knees. He grabs the girl and hugs her loosely. "You're adorable, Haru-chan. Now listen…" he begins, pulling back. His face grows serious. "About tonight."

_Here we go._ "I got it covered. Don't worry." He holds Haruhi away from him by her arms, looking directly into her eyes.

"Really? I know Kyoya has been raised to be a gentleman, but boys will be boys. Don't let him get fresh with you."

Haruhi tips her head at him. "Is it okay to say 'Yes, Dad' now?

"Oh my. Yes, yes. I don't mean to be a nuisance, but your mother isn't around and I want to be sure you'll be okay."

"I know _just_ what Mom would tell me."

"How's that?"

"Well, you've raised me right and I know she's always with me, too."

"Yes, she is," he says with some emotion, stepping away and placing a hand over his heart in a move that so reminds her of Tamaki, it's scary. "Right here." Ranka's eyes are shiny with tears.

"You aren't going to cry are you?"

"Well, you are heading out on your first date and that means you're growing up." He's biting his lower lip to keep it from quivering.

"It's just a date with a friend. I'll be home before midnight."

"Haruhi," he says, his lips no longer quivering, but set in a firm line. "There is no such thing as a date with a friend. Outings, yes. Dates, never."

"So..?" Her eyes squint just a little as she waits for the other shoe to drop.

"Is this an outing or a date?"

She has to think about that one. She doesn't know herself how to categorize what Kyoya and she are attempting to manage. _Not many people would, though, so we should get props for effort._

As she ponders, Ranka answers his own question. "It has to be date, otherwise he wouldn't have asked for my permission which, I must say, was very impressive. Most boys these days never consider the girl's parents at all - selfish, ungrateful, horny beasts that they are."

"Dad, not every boy is the same."

"Oh yes, my darling, they are. Some may hide it better than others, but in the end, they're all beasts."

"Then you're going to have to trust me to take care of myself."

"Like you did in Okinawa? Haruhi, Kyoya told me about those evil thugs. Thank goodness the boys were there to help you."

"Actually, they weren't though Tamaki-senpai did help a little." _And did Kyoya-sempai tell you about his "lesson?" I'm guessing no._

"Seriously, if you're going to start dating, it might be smart if you took some lessons in self-defense."

Haruhi groans. "So you_ are_ going to be a nuisance about this."

_"_Of course not. You won't even know I'm around." Ranka heads to the table and begins clearing it, keeping his face from Haruhi's prying eyes.

"And you won't follow me, either, _right_?" He stills in place.

"Whatever made you say that?"

"I swear if I see you, I won't talk to you for a solid week."

Ranka is crestfallen. He turns to face his daughter. "Very well, Haruhi. But you know I'm here for you. I'll only be a phone call away if you need to leave early or need a ride home for any reason."

"You're being ridiculous."

"Daddys who care are always ridiculous when it comes to their daughters."

"Thanks," she concedes, her tone softening with genuine regard.

"Tell you what. Why don't we look in your closet and see what you're going to wear? It's going to be so wonderful. And maybe a little blush and lipstick and-"

"Uhhh...Dad?" she says, her previous confidence merging with doubt.

"Just a smidge. Oh, I know you're pretty just as you are, but it's a special occasion. You want to make a good impression, don't you?"

"I don't think you have to worry about that. I've known Kyoya-sempai for a year." _Mostly dressed as a boy, it's true._

"This is different, Haruhi. I knew your mother before we started dating, too - well, briefly. Going out in public takes things in a whole new direction."

"Really?"

"Oh my, yes. Somehow people find out and everything changes."

"Everything…" _How will the club react? How will our guests? How will school? _

"It's going to be wonderful. I can see it all now."

_So can I and I won't be needing lipstick at all. Maybe a dinner jacket?_

"Dad, there's something you need to understand. A-And I think you should sit down."

Ranka spins in place, eyes wide with surprise, his voice filled with deliberate calm. "It's fine, Haru-chan. Daddy is here for you..."

"Dad."

"If Kyoya's responsible...I'll speak with him..."

"Dad?"

"I do need to know, though, because..." There he pauses, his composure going up in a curl of smoke over his head. "I'll kill him with my bare hands!" he growls, his voice a low roar. His fists are clenched by his sides and his face is suddenly on fire.

"Dad!" Haruhi shouts, realizing her verbal faux pas. Ranka is breathing hard, his body shaking with barely controlled rage. "You've got the wrong idea. Listen to me! Everything is fine. I'm okay. Kyoya's not responsible for anything. It's not what you think."

Ranka's Namahage face slowly resumes humanity. Haruhi sighs with relief.

Ranka drops onto a floor cushion, limp. "I'm sorry, Haru-chan. I didn't mean to jump to conclusions, but the way you said I should sit down..."

"I know and I'm sorry. Bad choice of words."

He presses a hand to his forehead, takes in a deep breath and releases it. "I'm sitting down now. What's going on?"

Haruhi seats herself across from him and meets his eyes. _The truth is always hard at first but lies are harder later._ She covers his hand with her own. "I really like Kyoya and we might be more than friends."

"But he only just asked-"

"Let's leave it at that. The thing is that...for the time being...we're going to be dating as...two guys."

Ranka's brows crease heavily and his lips purse in hard thought. Haruhi settles in for a long conversation.

End - Chapter 12 - You'll Never Be Alone

**A/N:** A bit of trivia…The Japanese icon of an open triangular umbrella with two names below carries the same meaning as a heart overwritten with two names and a piercing arrow. Sharing an umbrella in Japan is considered highly romantic. In the US, an umbrella is...an umbrella. Umbrellas also have romantic connotations in other cultures around the world. I like that much better.

By the by...I'm not a big fan of open letters tagged onto stories and, yet, here I am doing it. However, after a dozen chapters in the bag, I know without question that this story would not exist beyond the original one-shot had it not been for your generous and gracious encouragement. Many many thanks for helping me to see what could be. Knowing you have my back means everything.

* * *

You'll Never Be Alone - Capital Kings [Ryoji/Ranka-centric]

I'm the street lights that guide you home.  
I'll be the G.P.S when you've lost your phone.  
I'll be the song that's rockin' in your headphones.  
I'll show you the signs to let you know  
You'll never be alone.

Hey, let me start it off by sayin' this:  
You mean everything to me. Nothin' I wouldn't risk.  
Every single second and moment that passes by  
I'm thinkin' about ya and I really want you to know that  
There's something more out there.  
Somethin' that will hold you very tight when you're scared.  
'Cause I know when times get tough and it starts to feel rough,  
It can feel like everything's crashin' down on ya.

So when it seems like every road you're on has hit a dead end  
There is hope. Let me show…

I'm the street lights that guide you home.  
I'll be the G.P.S. when you've lost your phone.  
I'll be the song that's rockin' in your headphones.  
I'll show you the signs to let you know  
You'll never be alone.  
You'll never be alone.

Man, crazy how you got this far.  
I'd be sittin' just wonderin' where to start.  
Last week you were sayin' that somethin' just ain't right.  
Layin' in your bed stayin' up all night.

'Cause this life is harder than it seems,  
But one thing I've learned is never stop chasin' your dreams.  
And if it, if it ever gets too hectic for you,  
Stop for a second and remember one thing.

So when it seems like every road you're on has hit a dead end  
There is hope. Let me show…

I'm the street lights that guide you home.  
I'll be the G.P.S. when you've lost your phone.  
I'll be the song that's rockin' in your headphones.  
I'll show you the signs to let you know  
You'll never be alone. You'll never be alone.

Sometimes life is an ocean.  
We're just trying to flow.  
We get caught in slow motion from the undertow.  
Sometimes the path to choose is right in front of you.  
You just gotta let go.

I'm the street lights that guide you home. (Refrain - 2x)  
I'll be the G.P.S when you've lost your phone.  
I'll be the song that's rockin' in your headphones.  
I'll show you the signs to let you know  
You'll never be alone. You'll never be alone.


	13. Somewhere in Between

**Chapter 13 - Somewhere In Between**

_A day earlier..._

Saturday nights at the second Suoh estate are much like its Number One resident, which is to say, unpredictable. Dining with his father, catching up on schoolwork or just relaxing at home are among Tamaki's usual activities, though not his preference. He's happiest when his friends visit him and happier still when they stay over. Enthusiasm and generosity make him a pleasant host even when he's off duty.

It's been this way since the founding of the Host Club and Tamaki's "spell on the carriage" holds fast. Six teenage boys with money in their pockets and little to no adult supervision is a recipe for Trouble, but Tamaki's concern for his mother's welfare trumps all - her well-being at stake should his grandmother catch wind of even a breath of impropriety. The other mitigating factor is Haruhi. She never joins them at the Suoh mansion, but her invisible sway is strong.

"That's as it should be," Tamaki told her the first time she wisely refused his polite invitation to join their Saturday Soiree, as he called it. "You're Daddy's little girl and a young lady. Our carefree antics may not be suited to your tender nature."

"They can't be worse than what I witness every afternoon before and after Club, can they?" she asked, certain that it just wasn't possible.

"I believe Tamaki is correct in insisting that you don't partake," Kyoya had added to his friend's statements. "What you see here at school is but a taste of what some Hosts, gentlemen or otherwise, are like without censure." He nods towards the Hitachiins who are undressing one another before donning their cosplay outfits of the day with a maximum of tickling and touching. Haruhi turns away before they go much further, just as she always does.

And so, she refrains from attending and they refrain from illegal activities that would disgrace Tamaki and get the rest of them promptly shuffled off to "exclusive" boarding schools run by religious orders to prevent any further dishonoring of family lineage. Still, they are adolescent boys and so…

"It's up-up-left-down and enter three times fast," Honey is yelling at Mori who is being soundly beaten to a digital pulp by the tactilely gifted Hikaru in the final stages of a complex martial-arts-tournament-conquest-choose-your-adven ture game, one not even available to the general public yet; just a freebie from a Suoh Industries subsidiary with a finger in the video game development pie. Field testing, Tamaki's father called it whenever he brought home a game being considered for mass production. This one is called "Crux Ultima."

"Shut up, Mitskuni. I'm trying to focus," Mori admonishes without looking at his classmate who leans over the back of the leather gaming chair Mori occupies. Hikaru is half standing, half kneeling on its match near by. Both gamers wield a wireless controller that allows them complete freedom to move about, which Hikaru is prone to do, jumping out of his seat and dancing about wildly during his most violent attacks.

"You'll never beat Hika," Kaoru calls from the other side of the room with no small amount of pride. "He's the game-meister."

"He's just lucky this is only a game," Mori growls in frustration. "Dammit." Hikaru laughs an evil laugh as he body slams Mori's character to the ground several times in a row.

"Yeah, he knows, but he's still winning," Kaoru digs at his senpai with a wry smile.

Empty bags of snacks and bottles of water and mandarin soda litter the space between the gamesters at one end of the room and the rest of the group in the opposite corner. Kyoya reclines on the nubby-textured L-shaped sectional sofa, head supported by a toss pillow, knees bent upwards, engrossed in a saucy manga. His expression is one of disbelief and intense interest. This is definitely not school-required reading material.

Tamaki is sitting cross-legged on the floor near Kyoya's feet, his back pressed against the sofa. He's also reading and it's not a manga, but a magazine for men only. His eyes are wide and his blush is deep scarlet.

Kaoru, who's been sitting on the ottoman abutting the opposite end of the long divan, stands then stoops to grab a rag from the stack on the floor. He flops down beside the blond, closer to Kyoya. He flips through a few pages, pausing every now and again to ogle a scantily dressed model. No blush here. Just adolescent hormones in high gear. "Jeez, senpai. Where'd you get these?"

"I do have two older brothers," comes Kyoya's reply without his eyes ever leaving the page he's perusing.

"Isn't Yuuichi married?"

"Yes."

"So what does he need these for?"

Kyoya's head pops out from the side of the magazine to regard the younger Hitachiin. "You have clearly never met my sister-in-law."

"I have," Tamaki volunteers. "She's very pretty, for an older woman."

"She's thirty-one, Tamaki. That's not exactly old," Kyoya reminds.

"So what's the problem?" Hikaru inquires from across the room, now curious.

"The problem, from what I gather from conversations I've overheard between my elder brothers is that Azami is beautiful, intelligent and frigid."

"Frigid. Re-a-lly?" Kaoru says, trying to sound mature.

"Stop pretending you know what that means, Kaoru," Hikaru says.

"So what if I don't? You don't either," Kaoru retorts.

Mori says, "What it means is that Yuuichi spends a lot of time reading magazines…by himself." Kyoya chuckles at the elder Host's wit.

"Good one, Takashi," Honey commends, slapping the palm that rises to meet his over Mori's head.

"Huh?" Kaoru is bemused.

Kyoya rolls up the rag he's reading, leans forward and swats Kaoru on the head. "You dumbass. Don't you know anything?"

"About?"

"Sex."

"I know enough," the first year defends, turning his head to look at his attacker.

"A little information is sometimes a dangerous thing," Kyoya quotes, "And that's especially true in your case."

"I know more than a little, senpai."

"About pleasing yourself, I've no doubt; but no clue, to be sure, as to how to please a woman."

"Oh, and I suppose you're a pro?"

"I know enough to get the job done."

"Do you?"

"At least more than you. You've never even had a girlfriend. Why is that Kaoru?"

The redhead gives Kyoya a stony stare which the brunet ignores, dropping the rolled up magazine to the floor before reaching for another, this one a popular action manga. Throughout the exchange, Tamaki has remained still, thoughts spinning, his blush growing deeper with memory.

Honey saunters over to where they are and sits down on the over-sized ottoman. "Kaoru-chan is just waiting for the right girl to come along. Right?" He smiles benevolently at the younger boy, diffusing the situation without effort.

"Well, sort of," comes the terse reply as he glances over at Hikaru who's still engrossed in his game.

"That's okay," Honey adds. "There's no rush, y'know. Just take your time and learn as you go."

"So, just how much do _you_ know, Honey?" Tamaki pipes up for the first time in the conversation, eyes lifting to meet his senpai's.

"I did have a girlfriend last year, if you recall, but she didn't like me being a Host. I told her it made me happy, but she didn't care. So we broke up."

"She was evil, Mitskuni," Mori says without looking over and without inflection.

"Was not," Honey argues.

"Yes, she was. You deserve better."

Honey sighs. "I wish Takashi wasn't so over-protective. He makes it difficult for me to meet girls, sometimes."

"Does he?" Tamaki asks, surprised to hear the pint-sized boy make several unexpected admissions in succession.

"I mean, I like being the loli-boy at club, but that doesn't mean I intend to play that role forever." Tamaki considers the third year's words. _So what benefit is there to pretending? Why do it at all?_

"Hey Boss, is it too late to order take out?" Hikaru asks, his eyes never leaving the game screen.

"Yeah," Honey continues, "But he means well. And he's probably right, too."

"I am right. You know I am." Mori says before throwing the game controller down. "Argh. I surrender!" he shouts.

Hikaru whoops. "Undefeated and still the video game champion of the Host Club!"

Tamaki consults his smartphone. "One a.m. I think it might be too late for the closest places, but there's frozen pizza in the freezer."

Honey inquires, "Is there cake, too?"

"Of course," Tamaki replies. "Three kinds."

"Yay! Cake!" Honey cheers.

"Piz-za! Piz-za!" the Hitachiins chant as they all tramp down the stairs into an enormous and immaculate kitchen while turning on every light and making enough noise to wake the dead. They know the routine.

Kaoru turns on the convection oven, sets the temperature and gets the pizzas heating. Mori refills the party-sized ice bucket and pushes a half-dozen bottles of soda into its cold embrace. Kyoya knows Tamaki's house almost as well as his own and takes the liberty of pulling out tableware and utensils. Manners cost nothing, after all, especially when someone else cleans up. Tamaki grabs a multi-tiered stack of bakery boxes from the counter and sets them on the prep island in front of where Honey stands.

"They're all yours," he informs the wide-eyed host.

"Yumm!" comes Honey's delighted exclamation.

"Leave some for everyone else," Mori commands quietly. Honey dislodges the smallest box from the stack and sets it near the tallest host. A sharp glance from his grade mate garners a pout, but swift retrieval of the smallest box, replacing it with the largest. "That's better." The short boy picks up the rest of the white-corded boxes and carries them off to Tamaki's bedroom suite, singing as he goes.

As they wait for the pizza to heat through, their joking and horseplay reaches fever-pitch. It's a raucous, but happy sound that goes suddenly silent when Shima-san enters the room. They all greet her politely.

"Good evening, young masters," she responds with a bow. "May I remind you that some of the staff are already asleep with a very early awakening. If you could please show respect for their slumber, I'm sure they would appreciate it."

Apologies are made with promises to keep things to a low roar. She leaves their company and returns to the staff quarters. "Boys will be boys," Shima-san tells the bleary-eyed staff before turning her hearing aid down and retiring for the night. Out of sight, she smiles, happy that her pupil has friends he can count on.

Ninety minutes later, Tamaki stands at the front door bidding Honey and Mori good night as they take their leave, piling into the Hitachiin limo with the twins. University looms near for Haninozuka and Morinozuka and everyone knows that these carefree evenings together are limited. They'll be far too busy studying and involved in college life soon enough, even if they do come to Host Club in the afternoons. It will happen to each of them, in time.

Tamaki returns to his bedroom. It's not as grand in size as Kyoya's - no second level loft or floor-to-ceiling windows, but it's a sizeable suite nonetheless. Kyoya is in pajamas, stretched out fully on the sofa again, on his side with a pillow snatched from Tamaki's bed under his head and a light-weight comforter covering him from the waist down. His eyes are closed. Tamaki heads towards his friend and sits down on the ottoman, forearms leaning on his thighs, observing his friend as he drowses.

_He always looks so peaceful when he sleeps. Younger. Like he was in middle school._ The urge to brush the stray locks of hair that tumble across Kyoya's forehead is strong. The urge to kiss him even stronger. Kyoya wouldn't know if he's careful about it. Tamaki shrugs off the thoughts. _I mustn't. But I want to. I want…him._

He can't help but remember what happened the night before. Can't help but remember how Kyoya's embrace felt, his lips on his own, his hands on Kyoya and the passion they'd shared. It was mutual. He didn't imagine it. He didn't. But neither did he imagine Kyoya's insistence that their tryst was a one-time only event. It wasn't a one-night stand but, in essence, it was very much the same thing. He'd accepted his friend's boundaries thinking he could live with it. Now he's not so sure.

_Is this the way things will be for the rest of my life? How can I do this alone? Who can I talk to about how I feel? Who won't judge me?_ He'd normally talk to Kyoya but how can he when Kyoya is part of the problem? As potential heirs to prominent families, they're both expected to marry one day and foster future generations. _What about family? Family is everything._ Tamaki can't even imagine not having children one day. But now? He sighs a deep, mournful sigh as the reality of his situation begins to settle in. He's not upset that he's gay. He accepts that. But to suffer the limitations that Japanese society will place on him pains him for the future. And to be near Kyoya and not be with Kyoya pains him now.

The brunet hadn't seemed upset when they parted last night, but the Shadow King always plays things close to the vest. One could never quite tell what he was thinking or feeling. Tamaki, on the other hand, had felt exhilarated. Liberated. Being with Kyoya had meant everything to him. And whether his best friend went with it because he wanted Tamaki in the same way or just wanted Tamaki to be happy made no difference_._

_To be trusted is a greater gift than to be loved. I can't lose that trust. I won't. But I can't lose him, either, not to anyone. Not even to Haruhi._ He feels traitorous. He stands and walks slowly towards the sofa. He bends over and reaches out a hand. It alights on Kyoya's shoulder and the dark-haired boy is startled awake.

Seeing Tamaki hovering over him, Kyoya sits up and shifts backwards, away from Tamaki's touch. "What is it?" he challenges softly. Tamaki hears the anxious undertone in his question and cringes inside. _He doesn't trust me anymore._

"It's nothing, Kyo. Go back to sleep." He turns and heads to his bed. He sloughs off his clothes and into pajamas. Pulling the duvet over himself, he stares at the ceiling just as he did weeks ago, when his feelings towards his best friend had altered - not quite from friendship to love. It wasn't that easy. His feelings lie somewhere in between those two poles and he doesn't know what to do with them. It will be a long night.

"Tamaki?" Kyoya's voice floats to him through the darkness.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I barked at you. And yeah, I made a dog joke."

Tamaki smiles just a little. "S'ok, Kyo. I get it. You don't have to worry about me."

"Tamaki-"

"Good night, Kyoya." The statement is flat, but firm.

A pause and then, "Good night, Tamaki."

Silence.

**_oOoOo_**

Tamaki rises early Sunday morning, leaving Kyoya still asleep. Kyoya won't rise until at least ten, much too late for the blond. He heads into the kitchen, bypassing the well-laden breakfast buffet in the dining hall. Instead, he packs a rucksack and calls for Antoinette. Bundling against the gelid morning, the two head out to walk the grounds of the second estate. Tamaki needs to think.

As the day warms, the two companions continue to roam the woods and snow-dappled fields left natural by order of Suoh Yuzuru who insists on keeping a visual remnant of his memory of France nearby. Tamaki loves the wildness of the landscape. At midday, he lunches on the bread and cheese he's brought with him. Soon after, he wonders why Kyoya hasn't called yet. He usually does to discuss Club business before the school week begins. Tamaki finally rings up his Vice-President. The brunet answers but seems distracted, brushing Tamaki off. The blond is now genuinely worried. He needs to talk to somebody. _But who?_

_Haruhi. She's so level-headed and calm about everything. I can't imagine her criticizing me for something as wonderful as loving another person, even if Kyo doesn't love me back that way. Damn! Did I just say that? Haruhi likes Kyoya, but I love Kyoya. And Kyoya may have feelings for Haruhi but whether or not they'll go anywhere is uncertain. But Kyoya cares about me, too. How can I stand between them? But Kyo has been my friend for years…from the beginning. And we... We... _

And so it goes 'round and 'round in his mind.

Tamaki and Antoinette continue meandering through the wooded area where weak sunlight coats the hard winter ground in splotches of pale yellow. Every now and again, he tosses a hard rubber ball that the retriever bounds after with delight, catching it between her teeth but holding it delicately until she can deposit it at the feet of her master. When he doesn't immediately pick up the toy, she picks it up in her mouth and drops it again, hoping to entice her playmate into action. When he continues to ignore her, she barks in a series of short bursts.

He sits down on a felled tree in the small clearing they occupy and hugs the golden-haired dog tightly. She tolerates it for as long as he needs. He releases her and she trots off to inspect whatever dogs inspect when outdoors. He spends some time jotting his thoughts down in his journal, in French, but he needs to hear the words aloud.

He whistles a three-note cadence and the retriever returns to him. "Sit," he commands and she does so, facing him directly. "Good girl," Tamaki praises and the dog's tail wags expectantly. Tamaki feeds her the last of his lunch and stows his writing materials. He fondles the soft ears and ruffles the fur just behind them.

"Antoinette," he begins, "I have a problem and I need to talk to somebody about it. They say that a dog is a man's best friend and my current best friend is the problem, so you'll just have to stand in today, okay?" The dog leans in and licks Tamaki's nose, raising his spirits.

"Thanks," he says. "I needed that. I'll have to explain a little bit 'cause you don't know the whole story. See, I came to Japan two years ago to live with my father. He's the guy who pays the rent around here so he's pretty much in charge. He used to tell me all these great stories about Japan and I couldn't wait to get here. Mom lives in France and I have to behave myself so she can get medical care. I promised myself that I'd make the best of things and I have."

Antoinette's tail wags, urging him to continue.

"It's just that everything was so different…the currency, the customs, the way people address one another - everything was new and because I wasn't a little kid, a lot of people were less than understanding when I didn't completely understand so I had to pretend everything was fine even if it wasn't. It's made me popular - well, that and my ingratiating good looks - but I want people to notice me for who I really am, not just what I look like."

The retriever's head cocks to one side.

"I'm still not fluent in Japanese even though I study every day with Shima-san. Kanji still baffles me. I'm a much better writer in French and I know that the only reason Kyoya is ahead of me academically is because his writing skills in Japanese are better, even though my ideas beat his by a mile. We Suohs have goals and standards too, right?"

Antoinette barks at the intonation of a question.

"But really, it was Kyoya who made life bearable back then. He was nice to me and really smart. I liked that but it turns out, he was just like Japan - very different from what I first thought. Different from what most people think. See, Kyoya is really two people.

There's the guy people see on the outside - the cool Host who keeps everyone at a distance and tries to make you believe he only cares about wealth and prestige and all that sort of stuff. And he does, but that's not all. There's also the guy on the inside - the one who tries to solve every problem before it becomes a problem for his friends, the one who uses his smarts to help others while saying it doesn't matter, the one who lets me take the spotlight while standing back.

And regardless of which Kyoya I'm dealing with, he's been there for me, been honest with me. He's my best friend and I love him. I mean I think I _love_ him, Antoinette. I'm just not sure how he really feels about me."

Tamaki's chin drops into his chest. Antoinette stands and snuffles her nose against Tamaki's cheek. He lifts his head and she backs up a bit, tail wagging again.

"So what do I do?"

The canine barks several times in an uneven cadence and Tamaki is sure that in her wise canine wisdom, she's said, "Be honest and be yourself."

_Alright then._

He pulls out his smartphone.

End - Chapter 13 - Somewhere in Between

* * *

Somewhere in Between - Lifehouse [Tamaki-centric]

I can't be losing sleep over this.  
No I can't. And now I cannot stop pacing.  
Give me a few hours, I'll have this all sorted out  
If my mind would just stop racing.

'Cause I cannot stand still.  
I can't be this unsturdy.  
This cannot be happening.

This is over my head but underneath my feet.  
'Cause by tomorrow morning I'll have this thing beat  
And everything will be back to the way that it was.  
I wish that it was just that easy.

'Cause I'm waiting for tonight.  
Then waiting for tomorrow.  
And I'm somewhere in between  
What is real or just a dream. (3x)

Would you catch me if I fall out of what I fell in?  
Don't be surprised if I collapse down at your feet again.  
I don't want to run away from this.  
I know that I just don't need this.

'Cause I cannot stand still.  
I can't be this unsturdy.  
This cannot be happening.

'Cause I'm waiting for tonight.  
Then waiting for tomorrow.  
And I'm somewhere in between  
What is real or just a dream. (3x)


	14. Everybody Talks

**Chapter 14 - Everybody Talks**

The unseasonal mildness of the day after three days of snow and several more spent clearing it away is welcomed by grateful Tokyo city-dwellers. It seems as if half the metropolis is intent on breathing fresh air with sidewalks more crowded than usual and streets packed to capacity. Outside Haruhi's apartment building, the walkways are clean though the side street on which she resides is still thick with slush.

Also outside Haruhi's apartment building is Team Kyoya, who waits for their young master. The three men in black are always on call whenever Kyoya-sama leaves the Ootori estate. Their days are long and their responsibility weighty. As Kyoya's Family Guard, they never question their role, their duty or the necessity to put their lives on the line for the third son of the Ootori clan.

Hotta leans against the black Phantom limo enjoying the day as much as anyone. At 35 years old, he's been gifted the job as Kyoya-sama's chauffeur. It is a great honor. Aijima, the eldest of the three men at 45 years old, stands further down the road, arms crossed, watching the general vicinity. Tachibana, 39 years of age and longest in the employ of the Ootori family has, of course, been closest to where their young master is located. He is serious-minded, discreet in the extreme and very patient as he waits for Kyoya to emerge from the apartment he's visiting.

Hotta notices Aijima heading his way and shortly thereafter he sees Kyoya descending the staircase at the far end of the building. Hotta is a keen observer of his charge and something's off. The usually stern-faced, buttoned-up young Ootori is sauntering, hands in pockets, with his coat open, face lifted to the sky. As he nears, the bodyguard hears off-key humming but knows better than to notice. Humming, like whistling, is déclassé but it's not for him to correct.

"New haircut, Hotta-san?" Kyoya queries as Hotta steps in ahead of the brunet to open the car door for him.

"You know that I am bald, Kyoya-sama."

"But you look especially sharp today," the brunet cheerfully compliments.

"I am pleased that you consider my appearance to be acceptable."

"Good." He looks at Aijima. "You as well, Aijima-san."

"Thank you, young master."

"Right. Take me home, please."

"As you wish."

Kyoya gathers his topcoat around himself and slides into the car. _I have a date with Haruhi. _The smile that lights his face is genuine.

Hotta pushes the door closed and he and Aijima look at one another in confusion at their young master's uncharacteristic attitude. Aijima gets in the passenger seat curbside as Hotta walks around the front of the car to get behind the wheel street-side. Tachibana appears on his right, as if from nowhere, his slim frame angled to peer through both his dark glasses and the tinted window, brow furrowed, mouth set in a thin line.

_Don't stare, my friend. It's rude. And no, I'm not drugged or otherwise unnaturally affected. I'm just...thinking about a girl._

The Ootori bodyguard, whose hair turned silver while still in his twenties, gets into the car beside him and they pull out into the street. Kyoya peers through the window to catch a last glimpse of Haruhi's door as they roll past. _Already I miss you._

The drive home will be at least thirty minutes with Sunday traffic. He sinks into the seat and closes his eyes. The afternoon had turned out better than he'd hoped. He'd only gone to Haruhi's to return the umbrella. Right? _Accurate, though untrue._ He could have returned it at school but he needed a reason, any reason, to see her. It was a compulsion much like the way he feels when he spies a promising stock option before the major players vie for control. He has to have it.

...I'm not a transaction, Kyoya. I'm a person...

_Yes, Haruhi, you are indeed flesh and blood and warm to the touch. Wonderfully so. _

He recalls the way she looked when she opened the door. _Delightfully unpretentious, but it was clear she'd been crying. What about? _He still doesn't know. A strange ache presses his chest and he takes in a breath through his nose. He holds it for a three-count and slowly releases it through pursed lips, calming his mind with his usual mantra. A disciplined mind is a powerful mind and Kyoya has practiced focused meditation since youth. The ache subsides but his thoughts veer again, this time into the body memory of her in his arms.

Even now, the heat she triggers in absentia arouses. _It makes no sense to want her so desperately, but I do_. Her greenness is provocative, her reactions genuine and he loves the idea that he's the one evoking them in her for the first time. She's not easily swayed, either. Her business-like approach to their dating appeals to his logical side while her feminine attributes appeal to something altogether different.

_It means she's prudent in her decisions. Laudable. And she'll only permit what she actually wants which makes taking liberties a calculated challenge. I can deal with that. I welcome it. Nothing keeps Haruhi's interest but her true feelings in any given matter so I'll know where I stand; always a sound position when faced with unknown variables and certainly better than the hell I've been living._

Two weeks. That's how long it had taken Kyoya to deliberately approach Haruhi after their heated exchange after club hours. Two weeks of justifying pursuit of a girl he thought his best friend wanted. Two weeks of covert planning with Fujioka-san to impress the girl who has caught his attention with sudden ferocity. Two weeks of pushing the feelings she made him feel aside, her background a seemingly insurmountable obstacle, only to have them return every time he saw her. He can't deny them any longer. He doesn't.

_If Tamaki has taught me anything, it's that my life is mine. Haruhi says so as well. Similar wisdom from two very different sorts of people must have a legitimate basis. Perhaps, with Haruhi by my side, I can live that life fully._

But what of Tamaki? The blond's emotions are clear and Kyoya realizes that they've probably been in place for some time. Maybe since the beginning. Even so, Friday night was a mistake. _Chalk it up to adolescence, alcohol and hormones. Tamaki has to understand that there will be no further "indiscretions" between us. Of course, Tamaki being Tamaki might not see that so clearly. How could I have been so stupid? How? It was Tamaki, moron. He knows you like a book and read you exactly right. _

Kyoya's good mood is marred by the intrusion of recalled events of the last few days. He'd gone to the Suoh mansion the previous evening secure in his mind about where Tamaki and he stood with one another. He wanted his best friend to know that he trusted him and he did, even after he awoke to find the blond standing over him. _Tamaki might be emotional, but he's not stupid. I was simply startled awake. _

So why then did he toss and turn all night knowing that the blond who slept nearby would not refuse him a warm bed and body if he but asked? _My feelings are simply misplaced. I want Haruhi, not Tamaki. _But he knows that similar intimacy with Haruhi might be weeks, months or even...years from being what he wants it to be _if she's very conservative_. Meanwhile, Tamaki is ready, willing and able. _I want him as my...friend. _But the word 'lover' hovers dangerously near as do the feelings the blond evoked within him.

He imagines Haruhi doing what Tamaki had done, drawing in breath as blood pools in his groin, tightening in anticipation. The image is too hot to even contemplate right now and he stifles the thought with a small groan. But he can't entirely. The conjured images play havoc with him. He knows how Haruhi's lips feel against his and how Tamaki's mouth felt on other parts of his body. _How much better can it get? Much._ He'd have to satisfy some of his stronger urges before the evening began or he'd be at their mercy.

"No lineage, no connections, nothing to offer. She's just an ordinary girl, Tamaki." That's what he'd said a few weeks after Haruhi had come to Host Club last year. They were discussing her background after a meeting and Tamaki had suggested that his "daughter" might one day far, far in the future marry a wealthy son of Ouran; hypothetically, of course, to which Kyoya had said, "That's highly unlikely as she has_…_"_ No lineage? True. No connections? Procurable. Nothing to offer? How could I anticipate how wrong I'd be? Ordinary? Perhaps not nonpareil, but certainly exceptional. And totally desirable._

Thoughts of Tamaki are negated as he focuses on the hour or so spent with the petite brunette. He knows what he wants from her. It's everything: every thought, every feeling, every fantasy. He wants to know every square inch of her body and taste her intimately, make her quiver because of his touch. And he wants her hands on him doing things she only does for him, her mouth making him swear to the heavens and curl his toes.

_What is it about you that so captures me? It's not simply physical attraction as you alleged, though I have always noticed your subtle looks. But I was drawn to you by more than that. Drawn to you in Okinawa by your trust. Drawn to your insight into me at Bonmal. And drawn to you in the prep room when you made your genuine concern for me known. I've been tough with you for your own good, even dismissive, but you've seen through every pose without effort. Perhaps, with you, I can just be myself. Only the idiot did that before you, but he's still an idiot and you...are Haruhi._

He wants to indulge her, take her places she's never been, introduce her to what he takes for granted knowing that her common sense will prohibit her ever becoming spoiled. He's impatient for their date to begin. What might she wear? _What might she wear? This is Haruhi. She doesn't have brothers and Ranka's clothes are out of the question._ He doesn't want to embarrass her but she might be more embarrassed if she isn't dressed appropriately for the evening. He doubts it but he'd rather not take that chance.

Tachibana's and Hotta's loyalty and silence are assured and Kyoya's Smartphone is off speaker-mode. He pulls out the device and taps on the entry for Hitachiin Kaoru. Two voices answer.

"I really wish you'd stop answering individual calls as a unit," Kyoya begins. "When I want to speak to Hikaru, I will call Hikaru. Right now, I wish to speak to Kaoru."

"No can do," Hikaru says. "I'll find out everything anyway so save my brother the trouble of trying to remember your verbatim conversation."

Kaoru's voice is heard. "What do you want, senpai?"

_I want your brother off the line but since that's not going to happen... _"I need something fashionable from your mother's Young Men's Collection sent to Haruhi's home by 4 p.m. today. Bill it to the Ootori account."

"And why, pray tell, is that?" Kaoru questions, curiosity piqued.

"Yeah, why?" Hikaru demands. "You're not going someplace with her, are you?"

"Please explain how any of that's your business, Hikaru."

"Take it easy, Hika. S'okay," Kaoru soothes.

"Like hell it is. I've been trying to work up my courage since last year to ask Haruhi out again and now Mr. Cool blows up my spot."

_That isn't exactly hard to do when you take forever to make a move._

"Are you really taking Haruhi out, senpai?" Kaoru asks, sounding somewhat impressed.

Kyoya pushes at his glasses. "If I tell you, will you deliver the outfit?"

"Yes," says Kaoru.  
"No," says Hikaru.

_Damn Hitachiins._ Kyoya keeps his temper as losing it will gain him nothing. The hush between the usually enmeshed twins extends into an uncomfortable silence.

Kaoru's voice is the first to break the rift. "Hikaru, it can't be a date if Haruhi is wearing menswear."

"Then why is Kyoya-senpai paying for it? Shouldn't he be adding it to her debt?"

"That is a good question." Both boys are silent. Kyoya, too. Several seconds pass that feel like minutes.

"Listen, senpai, your silence is just proof that we're right," says Hikaru.

"Is that your judicious assessment?" Kyoya responds.

"Wait," Kaoru adds. "Are you aiming to be her boyfriend or just a boyfriend buddy?"

"A what?" Kyoya is taken off-guard.

Hikaru chimes in, "Her boyfriend buddy. Her B.F.B. - a guy who's more than a friend but less than a boyfriend."

"I confess I'm not familiar with such slang terminology though I'm not surprised that you are."

"Want to know what it means?" Hikaru entices.

"Don't Hika," Kaoru warns.

Without pause, Hikaru says, "It means you'll get to wine and dine Haruhi but don't expect her knees to unlock for you any time soon, if ever. She's got more sense than that."

The controlled intensity of Kyoya's voice buzzes the line. "Kaoru, may I suggest that you inform your older-but-less-wise sibling that should he reference Haruhi in any way with anything less than the utmost respect, I will personally see to it that his face, in no way, no longer resembles yours. Have I made myself clear?"

"No worries," Kaoru says. "I'll take care of it. And I'll have something sent to Haruhi's place."

"Aww, piss up a rope, Kyoya," Hikaru hisses.

"Thank you, Kaoru. Ever the sensible Hitachiin. It doesn't have to be formal, just appropriate for an evening at the National Theater."

"See Hika? It can't be a date 'cause Haruhi is going as a guy. It's just an outing. Hey senpai, is the Boss going, too?"

"And why would Tamaki be involved?"

"Ummm - okay, I guess not. You're not a couple or anything."

Kyoya stills completely for a moment. _What would make you say that?_ "No. We are not. Tamaki is a friend just as Haruhi is a friend. Any more questions?"

"Yeah," Hikaru says. "When's the birthday bash?"

"Next Sunday afternoon. Ranka is reserving his club."

"The tranny bar?" both twins ask with a hint of incredulity in their voices.

"It will not be so at that time, of course, and the décor will be made considerably more elegant for the event. Which reminds me - might your grandmother be persuaded to create several arrangements for the room? She will, of course, be remunerated for her artistry."

Kaoru tells him, "She's in Tibet right now but she's due back this week. We'll ask her and let you know."

"The sooner the better, please." Kyoya notes the time stamp on his phone. "Thank you, Kaoru...Hikaru. Your cooperation today is most appreciated. My tolerance level for your antics has increased _slightly_."

"Are we supposed to say thank you for that?" Hikaru inquires snidely.

"Only if it matters to you since it makes no difference to me," rejoins Kyoya.

"Snarky, senpai." Hikaru jibes. "I'm done."

"Ummm, Kyoya?" Kaoru quietly asks.

"Is your brother off the line?"

"Yeah. He's talking to someone else. So…senpai…"

"What is it now?" Kyoya replies with an air of monotony.

"We _will_ get a full report, won't we?"

"Meaning what exactly?" he repeats in exactly the same cadence and tone as before.

"Look, I know this is a date however you want to disguise it. I'm cool with that but I don't want to upset Hikaru."

"That seems fairly easy to do, but I trust you'll manage your elder brother's temper. It would benefit _you_ to do so."

"I know that. But, now that _you_ know that _I_ know what's going down...well?"

_Of course it would come to this. _"Encouraging gossip is not the act of a gentleman or have you forgotten that?"

"Neither is swearing, but you do that, don't you senpai?"

Kyoya considers a sharp comeback, but stops when he sees Tamaki's ID appear under Call Waiting. He mutters an ungentlemanly obscenity. "Can you hold, Kaoru? I have another call."

"It's the Boss," Kaoru informs.

"Hold," Kyoya states with deadly calm. His aggravation peaks as he puts Kaoru on Hold and opens a new line. "Tamaki, may I call you back, please?"

"No, Kyoya, you can not call me back because we need to talk right _now_." The blond sounds as agitated as Kyoya is feeling.

"Tamaki-"

"I'm calling an emergency meeting of the Host Club," he announces and the brunet is certain that regardless of the fact that no one can see him, Tamaki is standing with his arm outstretched, finger pointed to invisible hosts.

Arguing will be useless, so he attempts evasion, "Tamaki, I can't do this now."

"Boss, it's Kaoru. I'm on con-call now," the ginger interrupts.

"This is absurd," Kyoya insists.

"No, it's not. It's great!" Hikaru says with glee. Kyoya groans.

Tamaki cuts in. "Hikaru - Get Honey-sempai and Mori-sempai on the line."

"Already here, Tama-chan," announces Honey.

"You're lucky I was still home," Mori adds. "What's going on?"

Kyoya's hand presses to his forehead as his head drops forward.

Tamaki asks, "Does your con-call app allow more than six, Hikaru?"

"Yeah," Hikaru says trying to sound innocent. "Haruhi should be here, too."

"NO." Kyoya's head lifts at once, his voice overriding the chatter. They all fall silent. "This conversation is not including Haruhi and is not happening. Period. End of story. I'm hanging up."

"Kyoya." It's Tamaki, sounding rather firm. Kyoya's thumb hovers over End Call. "We need to talk. And I want the privacy divider up."

"Uh-oh," Kaoru says.  
"It's gonna be joo-cy," Hikaru says.

"Tamaki," says Kyoya with a modicum of calm, a twinge over his left eyebrow making itself known. It will blossom into a migraine if he doesn't take his headache meds soon. "This is neither the time nor place to discuss anything with you, let alone with the entire contingent of the Host Club." He hopes the blond will drop this idiocy.

"But Haru-chan isn't here," laments Honey.

Mori adds, "She is a host and should be present if this is a Host Club meeting."

Tamaki takes on a benevolent tone. "Thank you, Mori-senpai, for being a voice of reason amidst this crisis."

"What crisis?" Honey inquires sounding a further note of concern.

"So, Kyoya," Mori adds without missing a beat, "You're taking Haruhi on a date?"

"Called it!" shouts Kaoru.  
"I hate you, senpai," Hikaru gruffs.  
"Didn't think you had it in you," adds Mori, approving.  
"That's awesome," Honey compliments.

Kyoya's patience is gone. "How is this anybody's business but mine!?" he shouts leaning forward, then slumping back into the seat as the twinge becomes a solid thudding.

"Why didn't you say something last night?" Kaoru asks.

"Don't think it's going to lead to anything, senpai," Hikaru adds.

"I think it's great that Haru-chan said yes," Honey points out.

"So, when did all this begin?" Mori wants to know.

It's clear that their curiosity and excitement overrides their fear of ruffling the Shadow King's feathers. Only one voice remains unexpressed and it's the only one in which Kyoya is interested. So he asks, "And you, Tamaki? Am I to take it from your agitated state that you're less than thrilled with the idea?"

He expects, much as they all do, an emotional outburst. When cold silence is the only response he gets, Kyoya admonishes, "If you're sulking, understand that it doesn't work nearly so well over the phone as it does with visuals. If you're fuming, take a deep breath so you don't explode. And if you're thinking that this so-called meeting will have any bearing on who I escort, when, where or why, know that it doesn't."

"Then it's true," Tamaki says with a tone of snubbed disappointment.

"I didn't think you'd have a problem with it considering our earlier conversation."

"Conversation isn't the only thing I'm considering, Kyo."

_Moron!_ Kyoya's blood boils at the thought that Tamaki might reveal more than is wise. "Tamaki," he warns with menace in his voice. "Let's talk about this at another time, right?"

The tension on the line is palpable and not a single host interferes in the delicate communication between the club's founders, best friends and now-seeming rivals. The seconds slip by and finally Tamaki says in an overly dramatic voice that evokes an image of a stricken prince, "It's fine. I over-reacted. I'm sorry to have bothered everyone. You all have private lives and I have no right to interfere with them. Adieu until tomorrow."

"Tamaki," Kyoya says."Tamaki?" he queries, but he's gone. "Damn _idiot_!" he blares into the phone.

"Well, that was theatrical," Hikaru opines.

"Ummm, we've got to go, too, senpai," Kaoru says nervously. "See you tomorrow. And remember what you promised, okay?" They disconnect.

A few moments of silence slip by before Honey's sympathetic nature calms with, "It'll be okay, Kyo-chan. If Haru-chan wants to, then that's all that matters."

Mori says, "Give Tamaki time. But if you need to talk-"

"We're here for you," Honey finishes.

"I'll have it sorted out by tomorrow's Host Club session," Kyoya responds, trying to sound unconcerned as he pushes at his glasses. "And if not- let's just try to keep things cool, shall we?"

"Sure," Mori promises.

"You can count on us," Honey seconds.

"Thank you, gentlemen."

They disconnect and the hand holding the Smartphone collapses into Kyoya's lap. "Shiite," he swears under his breath as he stares out the window, the city limits now left behind. _How did things get out of hand so quickly? _He gives the matter a few more seconds of focused thought, then encapsulates it in his mind, tucking it away for later consideration. He closes his eyes and, with two fingers, rubs at the spot on his brow that hurts most.

"Master Kyoya, are you alright?" Tachibana's austere persona voices itself beside him.

The man's nearly invisible presence returns Kyoya to his surroundings. "Yes, I'm fine. Just a bit of a headache is all."

"Would you like your medication?"

"Yes, please."

The man reaches into an inner jacket pocket and pulls out a small zippered pouch. He extracts a single tablet, placing it into the waiting hand of the young man next to him. Taking a water bottle from the cooler, Tachibana uncaps it and hands it similarly to Kyoya. "Please remember that this is a different prescription than before, Kyoya-sama. Its full effects on you are as yet unknown."

"I realize that but," Kyoya says turning his face to look at Tachibana. "I have plans this evening that I will not cancel."

"An outing?"

"Yes," he says. Then, "No. It's a...date...with Fujioka Haruhi."

Tachibana's face remains impassive. "Your classmate?"

"And special friend," Kyoya adds, deciding that 'boyfriend-buddy' lacks class while 'special friend' allows for more than Hikaru described without a formal commitment. It's accurate, for now. He waits for the reaction.

With only a pause of seconds, Tachibana says, "I will do my utmost to ensure that you and Master Fujioka are untroubled for the evening. You may count on me, young master."

Kyoya continues to watch the face of the dedicated employee until the man lifts a hand to shift his dark glasses down his nose a bit. The green eyes behind the lens meet his with unwavering honesty and lack of judgment.

"Thank you," Kyoya replies. "And I trust you'll say nothing to my father until I have a chance to speak with him myself?"

"Of course, unless you give me reason to do otherwise. Hotta will also abide."

The phrase tells Kyoya that Tachibana will honor his request for a time and never reveal without informing Kyoya first. It's a less-than-perfect arrangement, but it works. Kyoya nods and sits back, taking the analgesic and forcing himself to relax into the contoured leather seat. He stares at the wallpaper of his cellphone. It's a photo of the Host Club entire, Haruhi sitting squarely at the center of things. Her smiling face reminds him that despite what anyone says, she's made her interest known and agreed to go out with him.

_That truly is all that matters. Nothing and no one is going to spoil my evening with you, Haruhi. As for Tamaki…I'll deal with him tomorrow. I've got this under control. _

He just wishes he felt more certain than he tells himself.

End - Chapter 14 - Everybody Talks

* * *

Everybody Talks - Neon Trees [Kyoya-centric]

Hey baby, won't you look my way?  
I can be your new addiction.  
Hey baby, what you gotta say?  
All you're giving me is fiction.

I'm a sorry sucker and this happens all the time.  
I found out that everybody talks,  
Everybody talks, everybody talks.

It started with a whisper  
And that was when I kissed her.  
And then she made my lips hurt.  
I could hear the chitchat.  
Take me to your love shack.  
Mama's always got a backtrack  
When everybody talks back.

Hey honey, you could be my drug.  
You could be my new prescription.  
Too much could be an overdose.  
All this trash talk make me itchin'.

Oh my, my. Shit.  
Everybody talks, everybody talks,  
Everybody talks too much.

It started with a whisper  
And that was when I kissed her.  
And then she made my lips hurt.  
I could hear the chitchat.  
Take me to your love shack.  
Mama's always got a backtrack  
When everybody talks back.

Never thought I'd live to see the day  
When everybody's words got in the way.

Hey sugar, show me all your love.  
All you're giving me is friction.  
Hey sugar, what you gotta say?

It started with a whisper  
And that was when I kissed her.  
And then she made my lips hurt.  
I could hear the chitchat.  
Take me to your love shack.  
Mama's always got a backtrack  
When everybody talks back.

Everybody talks (5x)  
Everybody talks... back.  
It started with a whisper. (everybody talks, everybody talks)  
And that was when I kissed her. (everybody talks, everybody talks)  
Everybody talks.  
Everybody talks... back.


	15. Everything's Okay

**_A/N: Taut string, ready arrow, taking aim..._**

**Chapter 15 - Everything's Okay**

Father and daughter sit across from one another at the low living room table, her hand resting atop his as early twilight lengthens shadows and diminishes ambient light. Haruhi pats it idly as she informs Ranka of Kyoya's and her intention to begin dating while maintaining her identity as a male. Ranka's reactions range from confused to incredulous to concerned.

"You're certain Kyoya is ok with this?" he asks.

"He's not perfectly happy about it, but he says we can manage it. I think so, too."

Ranka tips his head to one side. "But why can't you be a girl outside of school?"

"I know this sounds unlikely, but people in Kyoya's world run into one another all the time. It's a very closed circle, Dad. When we were at the mall last year, he ran into the wife of some corporate honcho who knew exactly who he was. And if we're going to the theater, there's a good chance other people who know him and his family will be there. Or their kids, some of whom may attend Ouran."

"That's my concern." Ranka pauses. "I can't imagine Kyoya's family will tolerate a homosexual relationship for their son."

Haruhi leans in. "But it isn't. If I have to, I'll go girl and that'll be the end of my life as a boy. I'll do that for him. Maybe it's time.

"By then, it won't matter. At some point, this masquerade will be revealed and there may be consequences."

"We'll face them."

"That's all well and good for Kyoya. His place at school won't be jeopardized. Yours might be."

"I don't think wearing slacks instead of a dress is an actionable cause for discipline or dismissal."

"A what?"

"A legal reason to be expelled. I read the Ouran Academy Code of Conduct for students when I first entered. All it says is that an Ouran uniform is required school dress. It doesn't specify male or female, so it's not a legal reason for reprisal."

"My darling daughter, I admire your shrewd if naive mind, but if Kyoya's family decides that having you around their son is a detriment to his future, they will find a way to separate you. Besides, there's something else I hadn't considered before." Ranka looks away, unable to meet her eyes.

"What is it?"

Ranka sighs deeply and audibly, his voice dropping in volume. "Even if they accept you, accepting me is a non-negotiable." Ranka focuses on the small hand that lay still on his. He places the other over Haruhi's, sandwiching it between his own as he struggles with being supportive yet realistic.

The truth of his words settles into Haruhi's frame of reference and she looks down, as well. _Why would Kyoya even take up with me if there was no future for us? Momentary distraction? An intriguing diversion? He said that wasn't true. But…what __about__ his family? I've never met any of them and Kyoya hasn't said much other than that their expectations of him are unreasonable. If grades are an issue then, of course, relationships must be, too. _Doubt threatens her fragile happiness about the upcoming evening and her tenable place in Kyoya's life.

Ranka's voice is soft as he tells her, "It's not too late to call this all off, you know. I can make that call for you. I think Kyoya will understand. He's a smart guy."

"Maybe you're right." She lifts only her eyes and meets her father's evaluating gaze. "Maybe this is foolish. I've been debating it in my head for weeks."

"I knew something was up. You haven't been sleeping _or_ eating right, but I thought it was stress from finals coming up. But this?" Ranka shakes his head. "Weeks?"

"Well, yeah. We've been…flirting…for a while, but today was the first time I thought we might actually have a chance at being together." _Guess it was wishful thinking._

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's ok," she says with a shrug of one shoulder. "You're probably right. I should have…" She stops, her throat closing up with emotion she can't stifle, her eyelids blinking in rapid succession, eyes filling until they glisten.

"Forget it," Ranka says, suddenly firm, his hands clasping around hers. "Your heart is already involved and whether you and he last an hour or forever, you have to find out for yourself if it's meant to be. Regrets are awful things, Haruhi, and I won't have you wonder what might have been. You and Kyoya are going to go out tonight," he avers with emphasis.

"What about what you said about his family? What about what you said about...you?" She knows she's looks as confused as she feels. Ranka lifts the covering hand and flops it towards her.

"I'll figure the ME part out. You just dazzle that boy."

"I'm not exactly the dazzling type, Dad. Some of them come to club every day. Tamaki calls them 'princess' whether they are or not and some really are royalty. I'm just Haruhi, the commoner."

"Now hold on. You are intelligent, compassionate, and beautiful. Any parent would be proud to have you as a daughter, and if the snooty Ootoris don't see the same wonderful girl that Kyoya and I do, then…fuck 'em."

"Dad!"

"I know. I know. I don't approve of swearing but sometimes it just fits."

Haruhi's tears are absorbed in her quiet laughter. "It's so funny to hear you drop an f-bomb."

"Do you think your Mom heard me?" he asks in an undertone, as if Kotoko were only in the next room instead of the next dimension.

"I think she'd probably agree with you."

Ranka wrinkles his nose and nods. "I think so, too."

Haruhi gets up and heads around the table, dropping to her knees to throw her arms around Ranka's neck. "Thanks, Dad. I love you."

"I love you, too, kiddo. I just don't want to see you get hurt." Haruhi pulls away.

"I know this is going to make me sound like some old lady, but I think I know something about dealing with hurt, don't you?"

Ranka considers her, his eyes drifting behind Haruhi to Kotoko's shrine in the corner of the room and back, a sad but fond look in his eyes. "I guess you do at that."

"I'll be fine," Haruhi says in a voice meant to convince herself as much as Ranka. "I just want to enjoy whatever time Kyoya and I might have together now. Nobody can ever promise more than that anyway."

Ranka stares at his one and only child. "You're wise for your years and I know you think of yourself as some tower of strength. Goodness knows there were days after your mother died when the only thing that kept me going was you. It wasn't fair of me to put that on you, but I did and it's time for me to return the favor. I'm here for you, Haruhi."

"I know that."

"Just don't scare me like you did before." Ranka stands. "Okay?" He reaches out to stroke his daughter's head. "I miss your long hair. It made you look more like Mom." Haruhi enjoys the fatherly caress with a smile.

"If I go girl, I can let it grow."

"Hmm. It just might be worth it."

Her cellphone rings with a familiar ID song. "It's Kaoru," she tells Ranka and heads into the kitchen. "Moshi, moshi," says cheerfully into the receiver, optimism restored.

"Haruhi! Glad you answered. Listen…Hika and I coming by your place in a little while to drop something off." Haruhi's brows knit with suspicion.

"Drop off what and why?"

"You'll see. It's from Kyoya-senpai."

Brows lift. "Kyoya?"

"We know everything, Haruhi," he continues. "Only how come you didn't tell us?"

"Yeah," comes Hikaru's voice on the same line. "Aren't we your closest friends?"

It's not the shared con-line that stalls her, but the fact that the twins already know about The Date and from Kyoya, it seems. Sh_ould I be annoyed or flattered? Maybe both._

"Haruhi, are you there?" Kaoru is asking. She brings her thoughts front and center.

"Ummm, yeah. I'm just a little startled at how fast the Host Club grapevine operates."

"Let's just say that nothing escapes the attention of the Hitachiin brothers for long," informs Hikaru.

"Though you two _have_ been gazing at one another for a couple of weeks now," adds Kaoru.

"Kyoya and I do not _gaze_ at each other and he only just asked me out today," Haruhi replies vexed at their scrutiny.

"Whatever," they chime in sync.

"So…where are you and when will you be here?" she asks, an air of resignation in her voice knowing she's powerless to stop them.

"Open your front door," says Hikaru as the doorbell pings.

"Right now," trails Kaoru.

Haruhi turns in place to see Ranka open their entry door. At first, the doorway is empty. Then, from either side, in perfect tandem movement, emerge her ginger-headed classmates. She swears to herself that their mischievous grins are exactly the same as those she remembers from her Wonderland dream. _If they weren't so cute, I'd kill them._

"Good afternoon, Haruhi's dad," they greet Ranka. "May we please speak with Haruhi?"

"We have a gift for her," says Hikaru.

"From Kyoya-senpai," enjoins Kaoru.

"A gift?" exclaims Ranka. "Oh my. Whatever can it be?"

From behind their backs, each boy pulls a white garment bag imprinted with the black and gold House of Hitachiin logo. Haruhi stills in place, her memory of Friday way too close for comfort.

"Oh no, he didn't," she groans.

"Oh yes, he di-id," insists Hikaru looking devilishly amused at Haruhi's discomfort with Kyoya's gesture. They saunter into the apartment with their parcels and lay them down across the table beside where Haruhi now stands, phone still open and in hand.

"You can hang up now," Kaoru whispers in her ear after glancing at the screen on her phone.

"Oh, uh, sure," she replies setting the phone on the coffee table, reluctant to know what's hidden behind the deceptively pure white covers.

"So, Hitachiin brothers, what has the mysterious Ootori Kyoya sent to my little girl?" Ranka asks as he joins them, much to Haruhi's chagrin.

"An ensemble for their date," Kaoru reveals.

"Outing," Hikaru argues.

"I hate to be the one to tell you this, Hikaru," Ranka says in that I'm-the-adult-so-I-have-to-inform-you-of-life's-ha rsh-realities. "But Kyoya specifically asked me for permission to take Haruhi out this evening which, as I recall, you did not." A sweat drop appears on Hikaru's brow and his lips press together in frustration.

_Saw that one coming._ Ranka is aware of her date with Hikaru via both Misuzu's and Kyoya's reports. Misuzu she forgives. Kyoya? _I wonder if he plans on telling my dad what happens on __our__ date tonight. _She stops then, mulling over what she's just told herself and what it implies. _I have a date with Kyoya. Tonight. _The butterflies in her stomach once again flutter with abandon as the twins unzip the garment bags.

Kaoru pulls out a dressy jacket. Cut in straight lines to the hip in a slim-fit silhouette with narrow lapels and a dark zipper with a heavy silver H-pull. Haruhi can't help but reach out to touch it, surprised at the way the interlocking diamond-pattern quilting on its surface lends softness and suppleness to the buttery black leather. It is both timeless and modern.

Kaoru hands off the jacket to her on its hanger and she sees gray flannel trousers folded over the crossbar beneath. "The jacket is a Young Men's cut but the trousers are Junior Women's," he tells Haruhi. "We don't want you to look bad."

"Don't we?" Hikaru queries looking at his brother, his tone of voice revealing contention between them.

"Hika," Kaoru chides with a tilt of his head and a pleading look aimed at his twin. Hikaru rolls his eyes and turns away. Kaoru turns back to face Haruhi. "We added a new pair of velvet flats and cashmere socks, too. It is still winter."

Hikaru bends over and unzips the garment bag he carried in. "And because it is, we - that is, Kaoru and I - picked this out for you." He extracts from the bag a Camel Hair coat effusively adorned with shiny gunmetal dome-buttons and a fluffy, variegated Mongolian lamb fur collar that extends half-way down both sides of the otherwise military-style coat.

The twins watch her face expectantly, especially Hikaru. Kaoru says, "We're not quite sure why senpai requested menswear, Haruhi, and we don't want to die, but this is a Woman's coat."

"That we want you to keep," finishes Hikaru.

Haruhi's eyes grow wide. She's seen the price tags on the simpler pieces they've brought to Host Club. They approach and drape their free arms around her shoulders. "Happy Birthday, Ha-ru-hi!" they chant.

Kaoru says, "We know it's a little early and you did say no fuss."

"But," adds Hikaru, "We couldn't resist."

"You guys," Haruhi begins then falls silent staring at the coat held up in Hikaru's free hand. "Thank you. It's beautiful, but I can't accept such an expensive gift."

"Of course you can," Ranka interjects. "One mustn't insult the giver of a birthday gift by refusing it, after all." He comes over and examines the jacket Kaoru holds. "Divine. Simply divine," he gushes.

Before she has a chance to object further, the boys have buttoned up Haruhi in the luxurious outerwear. They stand back and shout "So cute!" before they double high-five one other above their heads.

The brown-eyed girl runs a hand along the deep plush fabric of one arm, then fingers the soft fur with both. Her eyes sparkle as she looks at the identical faces watching hers. "Thank you. I love it."

"Yes, it's a wonderful present, boys," exclaims Ranka.

"We brought make-up, too," Kaoru states.

"No way," argues Haruhi, shaking her head.

"Yes, way," Hikaru insists.

Ranka interjects, "It's very haute couture for the metro-sexual crowd."

"Just a little eyeliner," adds Kaoru. "It'll be sexy-" The word is out before he can recall it and he casts a worried look towards Ranka whose icy glare freezes the boy in place.

Haruhi stifles a smile, finding herself caught by Kaoru's word. "Sexy?" she intones, as if such an appellation could never apply to herself. _Me?_ Once again, the remembered image of the girl in Friday's mirror reveals itself in her mind. _That girl was sexy, not me. But it was me and it can be me again, if I want it to be. The question is: do I? _

"We'll see about that," Ranka informs. "Now go and get ready while I have a little chat with these clearly confused young men." Haruhi hesitates. Ranka holds out the outfit bag towards the girl. As he does, it rustles a bit. "What else is in here?" he questions the twins, his eyes narrowing.

"Just something pretty to wear under the jacket," Kaoru explains a bit nervously.

"What are you talking about, Kaoru?" Hika demands turning to his brother. "What did you add?"

"Just a top."

"A top," Hikaru says pinning his brother with his eyes. "You _don't_ mean the one you suggested before I slammed that idea to the ground, do you?"

"Hikaru, it's a beautiful piece and it'll look great on her."

"What happened to the shirt and tie I picked out?"

"It was boring and you know how I feel about boring."

"Okay," Haruhi interrupts. "Now, I'm worried."

"Just put it on, Haruhi. Please? You can keep the jacket zipped up all night if that's what you want to do."

"What do you mean? What kind of top _is_ it?" Now, she's anxious.

Hikaru is glowering at Kaoru and Kaoru is looking a bit sheepish.

"Well," Hikaru says. "Tell her."

"It's a…bustier."

"Oh." That's all Haruhi says, surprising herself with her equanimity. _I've worn those doing historical cosplay and I do have the jacket. _She peeks inside the bag and zips it up before Ranka can see what's inside.

Despite her earlier self-admonition to the contrary, she finds herself wondering what Kyoya will think of the ensemble, remembering the effect of the dress. _Which, I must admit, probably played a part in getting us to this point. _A quick flashback in her mind to the afternoon has a devilish little smile quirk up one corner of her mouth before she can stop herself_. _"Give that to me, please," she says, taking the garment bag from Ranka.

"Haruhi, perhaps I should have a look at it," her father cautions.

"Kaoru said it's a beautiful piece and it is. It would be rude to refuse after they've gone to so much trouble, wouldn't it? Besides, I'll have the jacket over it, right Kaoru?" She turns her head to consider the younger twin who nods with a knowing smile that she returns. _You're a sly one, Hitachiin Kaoru, but at least you're on my side. I don't know about Hikaru._

Said Hitachiin refuses to look at her. She knows why but there's no way to ameliorate his rejection except one. She heads over to him and stands directly in front of him, waiting until he looks at her. When he does, she says, "You and Kaoru have become like brothers to me, you know that, right?"

The elder twin regards her steadily. "We have?"

"Who else do I go to class with, have lunch with, study with, talk to and yell at more than anyone else?"

"Nobody?"

"Correct. Nobody. I'm glad you've let me into your world but if you want to be a part of mine, you have to respect my feelings about things. Can you do that?"

Hikaru looks at his twin who comes over and puts his arm around his brother's shoulder. "Absolutely. Consider us your big brothers. We'll look out for you, right Hika?"

Hikaru's mouth scrunches up a bit, then relaxes. "Okay. That means Kyoya better mind his manners around you. That's all I'm gonna say."

Haruhi steps in and plants a kiss on Hikaru's cheek, then Kaoru's. They blush in uncustomary fashion.

"Then it's settled," she declares.

As she heads to her bedroom, she hears her dad telling the twins to take a seat on the couch.

_It'll all work out. Everything's okay._

End - Chapter 15 - Everything's Okay

**_A/N: And release... ; )_**

* * *

Everything's Okay - Lenka [Haruhi-centric]

Keep giving me hope for a better day.  
Keep giving me love to find a way  
Through this heaviness I feel.  
I just need someone to say, "Everything's okay."

Woke my weary head. Crawled out of my bed  
And I said, "Oh, how do I go on?"  
Nothing's going right, shadow's took the light  
And I said, "Oh, how do I go on?"

Sometimes I need a little sunshine  
And sometimes I need you.

Keep giving me hope for a better day.  
Keep giving me love to find a way  
Through this messy life I made for myself.  
Heaven knows I need a little…

Hope for a better day,  
A little love to find a way  
Through this heaviness I feel.  
I just need someone to say, "Everything's okay."

Everything's okay.

I gave my hope to you  
When you were nearly through  
And you said, "Oh, I can't go on."  
Well, now I need it back  
'Cause I have got a lack of all that's good  
And I can't go on.

Yeah, sometimes I just need a little sunshine  
And sometimes I need you.

Keep giving me hope for a better day.  
Keep giving me love to find a way  
Through this messy life I made for myself.  
Heaven knows I need a little…

Hope for a better day,  
A little love to find a way  
Through this heaviness I feel.  
I just need someone to say, "Everything's okay."

Everything's okay. (7x)

Sometimes I need a little sunshine  
And sometimes I need you.

Keep giving me hope for a better day.  
Keep giving me love to find a way  
Through this messy life I made for myself.  
Heaven knows I need a little...

Hope for a better day,  
A little love to find a way  
Through this messy life I made for myself.  
Heaven knows I need a little…

Hope for a better day,  
A little love to find a way  
Through this heaviness I feel.  
I just need someone to say, everything's okay.


	16. Start of Something Good

**Chapter 16 - Start of Something Good**

A mantle of indigo sky arches above the city - stars winking along its span like a handful of diamonds flung from an otherworldly hand. The sidewalks and streets glisten from the steady melt that's been ongoing since morning. Reflections of light from traffic signals, shop windows and cars add color and contrast to the usually drab surfaces. Tokyo Sunday is a melange of people and events squeezing in the last of the weekend's merriment before the crush of Monday morning's strictly business attitude.

The black Bentley pulls up directly in front of Haruhi's building, a second dark car parking thirty feet behind. Kyoya emerges from the first vehicle, his affect revealing nothing. He climbs the outside staircase and pauses at Haruhi's landing, a small flash of dizziness overtaking him. His meds had caused him to fall asleep and he woke up irritable, unsated, and running late. He's nervous and he doesn't get nervous. Ever.

"Master Kyoya?" Tachibana is already at his side.

"I'm fine."

"Do you require water? It's important that you stay hydrated."

"I realize this. It may be the new medication. I don't know, but we are _not_ going home."

The attendant knows better than to argue but pulls a pint-sized water bottle from his inside jacket pocket and waits until Kyoya downs it complete.

"Thank you for your concern, Tachibana." The man takes the empty and, once again, disappears. Kyoya walks the remaining distance to Haruhi's door. Only the tapping of his hand against his thigh betrays Kyoya's inner disequilibrium. _Calm, cool and collected, Ootori. Give nothing away and maintain your persona. _He presses the doorbell.

"Hello, Kyoya," Ranka says as he answers the door. His voice is deeper in pitch without any trace of affectation and he's changed into simple jeans and a black Bay Stars Starman tee-shirt. What's more, he's clean-shaven. _He's done this for Haruhi, of course__**.**_ "Won't you come in, please?"

"Thank you, Ranka," Kyoya says as he passes him by to enter the apartment for the second time that day. It's the same place it's always been, but it's different now. _It's where __she__ lives._

"Actually," Ranka begins in a somewhat serious tone of voice. "I think it would be more appropriate if you address me as Ryoji-san from now on, don't you?"

"If you wish," Kyoya replies. _Is this the same man I spoke with this afternoon? _"In light of recent developments, that seems a good idea. And I can assure you that Haruhi will be treated with respect and be well-protected whilst in my company." He presses a raised button discreetly affixed to the alligator band of the Panerai inherited from his grandfather, and less than fifteen seconds later several sharp raps are heard on the exterior door.

"Oh. Who can that be?" Ryoji asks.

"My bodyguard," Kyoya explains. "May I admit him?"

"Of course," Ryoji says, eyes blinking with surprise.

"Thank you." Kyoya opens the door and stands back as Tachibana enters, dressed in black from his shades to his shoes but for the immaculate white dress shirt beneath the black-on-black necktie. His usually opaque eyewear has lightened with the fall of darkness and his earpiece is nearly invisible, but ever-present.

He stands in silence just behind his young master who says, "Fujioka Ryoji, Seizaburo Tachibana." The severe-looking man steps forward and bows low to Ryoji, who has never had any adult bow with such deference to him. "He, along with the rest of my personal guard, is charged with ensuring that my safety and that of anyone else I choose is of the utmost priority. It is their occupation and their responsibility."

"Well, I certainly am impressed. I had no idea that such precautions were necessary."

"It's not my preference, but my parents insist. Haruhi will also be under their protection when she is with me."

"Is that really necessary?" Haruhi asks, her voice coming from behind her dad.

Ryoji turns in place. "Haruhi, you look beautiful."

Kyoya breaks his usual stoic stance, unable to resist peering around the man to see the girl who has just entered the kitchen from the living room. She's still the petite brunette he remembers: cropped brown hair, soulful eyes and bright smile. But she's not at all what he expected.

The outfit she wears is elegant and simple. _Something I might have chosen myself. Kudos, Hitachiins. _His quick impression is followed by an unwitting perusal of his favorite Haruhi assets - the curve of her hips and what's adjacent, her concave waist and convex breasts concealed beneath the tailored jacket, the flash of silver at her delicate throat beneath the short vee of collar, zipped up to a modest closure. _Playing coy, Haruhi? _

Her brown hair, usually brushed into simple lines, is gelled and softly spiked at the top, giving both height and glam while bringing out her best features - her eyes which are highly defined and definitely sexy, outlined with kohl and mascara in a way that makes her seem like some exotic flower. She is male without being masculine and female without being feminine. In effect, she's nearly androgynous and… "Absolutely perfect," he says softly, his words mirroring his exact thoughts.

"High praise from you, senpai," Haruhi says, those hypnotic eyes reflecting both amusement and pleasure at his unguarded compliment.

"Kyoya, remember?" his eyes holding warmth and his voice much too much affection for the setting, but he can't stop himself.

"I know," she teases, faint color on her cheeks.

A throat clears itself and Kyoya is reminded that they are not the only people in the room. He drops his eyes, retreating behind the glint of his glasses, aware that he's been staring. _Such behavior is ungentlemanly and unacceptable. What's gotten into me? _He pushes at his specs, but his eyes wander back to where she waits.

"Yes, she is, indeed perfect," Ryoji agrees, noting Kyoya's interest while moving to where Haruhi stands, putting his arm around her shoulder without bringing her further into the room. The message from father to suitor piques Kyoya's innate competitiveness.

_Of course he's possessive. He's her father, but it's time Haruhi moved into a bigger and more exciting world, Ryoji-san. I can give her that and more._ Kyoya steps forward and offers his hand. Haruhi takes it and moves towards him, away from Ryoji who reluctantly releases his daughter, looking forlorn.

Haruhi intertwines her fingers with his. They're cool within his own and he loves the way she holds onto him. The protective feeling he experienced earlier in the day returns along with an effusive warmth that radiates throughout his body. _Just a side effect of the meds, I'm sure._

"Haruhi, may I present Tachibana? He was at the commoners' supermarket the day we all went with you." Tachibana steps forward and crisply bows to her.

She bows slightly, uncertain of her status in the situation. "It was so crazy that day. I'm sorry if I don't recall seeing you. Hello."

"There's no need to apologize or to converse, Haruhi," Kyoya explains. "Tachibana is not meant to be seen or heard; only to be present and alert."

"I see. Well," she says looking at the somber faced man with a small smile. "It's still very nice to meet you." Kyoya holds up a hand towards the man and he bows once more to the assemblage and leaves the apartment.

Haruhi turns to Kyoya. "I never realized you required such security."

"It may seem a bit paranoid, but coming from an elite family, there is the potential of plots of all sorts against different members. More than people know. Not against myself, not yet; which I consider fortunate. Then again, Tachibana has been with me since I was a child and his loyalty and skills are unquestioned." Kyoya turns to Ryoji. "I hope I have allayed any concerns you might have, Ryoji-san."

"Uh- yes, somewhat. And you have your cellphone, Haruhi?" Ryoji gives his daughter a knowing look which Haruhi dismisses with a sigh.

"Yes, dad, but there's no need to call me." Father and daughter regard one another in silent communication.

"Haruhi," Kyoya interjects, "The temperature has dropped. You'll need a coat." He gestures towards her duffel coat pegged beside the door.

"Oh!" she replies brightly. "Be right back." She disappears into her bedroom and in the brief interim, Ryoji approaches Kyoya.

"Do have a lovely evening, Kyoya-kun, and remember our chat from this afternoon, will you?" _Kyoya-kun?_ The older man gives the younger man a sweet smile with eyes that hold distinct warning. _Definitely the same man I met this afternoon._

"Of course, Ryoji-san. I will be a complete gentleman." Kyoya gives Ryoji his best host smile.

"I highly recommend it," the teddy-bear-okama-gone-tiger-dad replies in a dulcet tone. "Because I will know if you aren't."

_Well played, Ryoji-san. I'm impressed and I believe you. _Kyoya nods once, point taken.

"I'm ready," Haruhi sings out as she re-enters the room wearing her new and extravagant polo coat.

Kyoya is taken aback. "This is a surprise." _You should have told me, Kaoru. Or was this Hikaru's idea?_

"It's a gift from the twins for my birthday," she explains, buttoning up the lavish garment against the distinctive Hitachiin pattern of the challis scarf loosely tied at her neck so it's visible between the shaggy lapels.

_Ahh. _"Is it?" he says, his irritation masked. "I must admit, they do have excellent taste and it quite becomes you." _Definitely one-upsmanship Hitachiin style, since the scarf alone is worth several hundreds of dollars, let alone the coat. Add to that the fact that they know I'm planning a party for her next weekend. But for Haruhi's sake, I'll take it up with them privately, tomorrow._

"Thank you. I think so, too," she says, her excitement apparent. Upon reaching the door, Kyoya pushes it open and Haruhi turns towards her father with a wave. "See you later."

"Yes, my darling, you shall," Ryoji says in a Ranka-like voice that worries Kyoya just a bit.

Outside, they take a few steps and stop as Haruhi pulls on her leather gloves. Breath mists in front of their faces in the cold, clear air that engulfed the city after sunset. Below them, a small crowd has gathered to gawk at the elegant vehicle parked curbside.

Kyoya grabs Haruhi's gloved hand and wraps it around his arm, covering it with his own. The moon has risen and silvery light coats every surface. He looks down at the shining face of the girl looking up at him, her pleasure in his company obvious.

"Ready?" he asks, genuinely excited about something other than business for the first time in a very long time.

"For anything," she responds and he smiles; not a host smile, but his own.

"Kyoya," she says as if he's surprised her.

"Yes?"

"You're very handsome when you really smile."

He's not one to blush and he's heard flattery in his time; but her simple observation, one made as if she hadn't ever noticed his looks before just now, pleases him immensely. _Why should that be? Because it comes from her heart, as her words always do._ He leans his face towards hers just a bit. "If your father weren't standing less than ten feet away watching us discreetly from the other side of the window over there, I'd kiss you."

She reaches up and presses a finger to his lips. "Hold that thought," she tempts.

"R-right," he says, a small frisson of pleasure running up his spine at her intimation. They descend the staircase and head to the car with a somewhat determined air.

Haruhi recognizes the man standing beside the open car door as the same one who drove her home several weeks ago. "This is Hotta, my driver," Kyoya says politely. Haruhi simply nods towards the man whose somewhat scary appearance keeps her from a more genial greeting.

They slip into the vehicle and Haruhi slides to the opposite side of the bench, the same way she did the last time she was a passenger. The door seals with a solid thud with Hotta and Tachibana in the front seat. Kyoya names a sushi restaurant whose reservation wait list is three months long. All it took from him was a phone call to the proprietor and a subtle reminder that Ootori Yuuichi-sensei had provided a patron with life-saving intervention following a fugu-fish prep gone wrong. Fortunately, the fish was cooked and not done chrysanthemum-style or nothing would have helped.

_So far so good._ He doesn't want to make Haruhi nervous by lifting the privacy divider, but neither does he want their conversation to be overhead. Hotta and Tachibana are loyal to him, but his father is adept at coercing information from any employee he chooses. Kyoya won't put his retainers into such a position if he can help it. He casually lifts the divider while observing Haruhi's reaction, but she fails to notice anything extraordinary about it.

_Ahh, innocence. Such a captivating quality in a girl, though unwise. I thought she'd learned that lesson and from me, no less. That is, unless...she wants it, too? _The idea is thrilling and he's very sorry he didn't have a chance to work off his excess libido. He sighs. Everything will be magnified in intensity for him and keeping his cool a bigger hassle that obtaining the simple kiss he wants from her before they reach the restaurant._ Self-imposed challenge: kiss Haruhi before we reach the restaurant without letting it go to your head - either. Odds of success - high. Difficulty level - moderate._

Kyoya is secure in his ability to meet mental challenges, self-imposed or otherwise. It's the emotional ones that usually do him in.

_It's going to be an interesting evening._

End - Chapter 16 - Start of Something Good

**A/N: Being fascinated as I am with all things Ootori, I'm curious about the Family Guard. I've seen Hotta's name as Hotta, Horita and Honda. So, just like Otori, Ootori and Ohtori, I've chosen the version that appeals to me most. Fellow Ootori-obsessed readers/writers will understand concern for minutia like this (you know who you are). And yes, this chapter is at least a day earlier than I usually post, but it felt complete so why forestall the inevitable? ;D **

**Hope you enjoyed!**

* * *

Start of Something Good - Daughtry [Kyoya-centric]

You never know when you're gonna meet someone  
And your whole wide world in a moment comes undone.  
You're just walking around then, suddenly,  
Everything that you thought that you knew above love is gone.  
You find out it's all been wrong.  
And all my scars don't seem to matter anymore  
'Cause they led me here to you.

I know that it's gonna take some time.  
I got to admit that the thought has crossed my mind  
This might end up like it should.  
I'm gonna say what I need to say  
And hope to god that it don't scare you away.  
Don't want to be misunderstood.  
But I'm starting to believe that  
This could be the start of something good.

Everyone knows life has its ups and downs.  
One day you're on top of the world  
And one day you're the clown.  
Well, I've been both enough to know  
That you don't want get in the way when it's working out  
The way that it is right now.  
You see, my heart - I wear it on my sleeve  
'Cause I just can't hide it anymore.

I know that it's gonna take some time.  
I got to admit that the thought has crossed my mind  
This might end up like it should.  
I'm gonna say what I need to say  
And hope to god that it don't scare you away.  
Don't want to be misunderstood.  
But I'm starting to believe that  
This could be the start…

'Cause I don't know where it's going.  
There's a part of me that loves not knowing.  
Just don't let it end before we begin.  
You never know when you're gonna meet someone.  
And your wide world in a moment comes undone.

I know that it's gonna take some time.  
I got to admit that the thought has crossed my mind  
This might end up like it should.  
I'm gonna say what I need to say  
And hope to god that it don't scare you away.  
Don't want to be misunderstood.  
But I'm starting to believe…

Oh, I'm starting to believe that  
This could be the start of something good.


	17. Fire in My Heart

**Chapter 17 - Fire in My Heart**

Kyoya settles back into the leather upholstery and looks over at the girl seated a few feet from him. She's waving to someone beyond the car and a small, unwitting smile possesses him. _So like her. _But he finds her gesture reassuring as it reminds him that, no matter how different and enticing she appears, she is still Haruhi - the smart, rational and even tempered young woman whose common sense is uncommonly wise and who…_just makes everything better. _But he is enticed.

They pull away from the curb and head into traffic. Kyoya activates the CD player and Tamaki's deft playing wafts out. It's a compilation the blond made with each Host's favorite piece given as a holiday gift. _Wonderful music but not the best choice for tonight, I think. No, definitely not._ He's still irked by Tamaki's recklessness on the telephone that afternoon. _A pointed conversation is definitely in order._ He replaces Tamaki's playing with that of a string quartet set at low volume and sits back once more, unbuttoning his sheepskin trench and turning down the deep plush collar.

The silence between Haruhi and himself is comfortable in a way Kyoya would never have dreamed possible when they first met. More than anyone else, they seemed to live in worlds so dissimilar that never the 'twain could meet. Yet, somehow, as time passed, it was Haruhi who often came to stand beside him or sit next to him on the sofa, quietly observing as he filled his netbook with data while she conversed with him about people. They'd been learning about one another all along, only he never realized it. _Imagine that_.

Haruhi slips off her gloves and pockets them. She continues to watch the scenery slide by and he just watches her. He's seen her in cosplay of all sorts, even in frilly dresses and gowns. She's always been what hosts and guests alike called "cute." Yet, as he studies her pert profile, face aglow from the neon lights beyond, he sees something utterly different. She fairly shimmers and, in his eyes, _she's beautiful._

He wants her to feel special, to spoil her with things she doesn't even know she wants, and have it all appear spontaneous, though impeccably planned. _Yet it's spontaneity that's gotten us this far; quite ironic for the Shadow King. Perhaps planning belongs in business and academics, but not love. Yet isn't love an illusion? There's no such thing as giving without getting, right? _His statements of only a few days prior sting his sensibilities.

Haruhi finally turns to face him, her eyes lit from within. Teensy wrinkles in the corners evidence her delight as she presses her arm into the back of the bench and considers him with a gentle smile.

_She seems so different tonight - someone I know and yet don't know at all. Just sixteen, yet there's a maturity about her that's authentic. Then again, it is Haruhi, who can adapt to whomever she encounters, understanding their needs before they're aware of them themselves, including mine. _

…_"I'm not sure what your gain in this will be but there has to be something. Is it power, control or possession?"…_

_My gain, Haruhi, is you._

He wishes he'd stowed the annoying arm rest that separates them. In the large vehicle, distance is altogether maintainable and he wants her closer.

"Penny for your thoughts," she says, leaning a forearm on said barrier. "Though I'm guessing you'd charge more since I'm certain they're more intriguing than the average person's, in their own way, of course."

His small smile broadens a little at her witty jibe. "Undoubtedly. I am an Ootori, after all, but for you I'll make an exception despite the fact that you seem to be quite capable of guessing people's thoughts fairly well."

"I don't know about that. Things just seem obvious to me."

"My point, exactly. Most people are oblivious to anything beyond the tip of their nose, whereas you are not. And there have been numerous times when your intuition proved more beneficial than any analysis I could provide, on top of which you have an uncanny way of reducing complex situations to their basic elements."

"Thank you, though I'm not exactly sure what you mean," she replies, focused on him, awaiting explanation. He likes her attentiveness.

"Take us, for example."

"You and I?"

"We're a complex situation, if ever there was one. Yet, I have no doubt you've reduced it all in your mind to simple facts which you will now share with me."

She squints her eyes a bit, then says, "Well, the way I see it is that we've been aware of one another without really considering one another as anything other than friends. And now we are."

"Friends?"

"Other than."

"You see? Complexity made simple."

"We'll see," she says, her mouth twitching up at one side, teensy wrinkles re-appearing.

"Failure is not an option, Haruhi," he informs somewhat seriously.

"And why is that?"

_Because I want you. Because I will have you. Because I care... _He pauses as his deepening affection pushes to reveal itself. Mind, body, feeling. It's an endless three-way circuit with no set start or stop point. Slow push.

"Because it…just…isn't," he responds sounding preoccupied, leaving Haruhi looking bemused.

_Don't get carried away like a frivolous girl, Ootori. This isn't a client's daughter or a randy young socialite you have to amuse or satisfy. Haruhi is here because she genuinely likes you and not just your social standing or bank account. And she's still relatively innocent. But that's why…_

"You're probably wondering how many vehicles my family owns as this is not the same one you rode in before," he says nonchalantly to head off his thoughts with the first thing that comes to mind. _Argh. Insipid comment._

"Huh? Kyoya, just how do you do that?" Haruhi asks, allowing their line of conversation to shift as easily as that. He relaxes and leans towards to her, angling his torso. He's determined to keep a firm grip on his emotions which seem to be getting more and more out of hand. _Damn meds._

"Anticipate your questions? I told you, it's simple deduction." His voice postures Ootori smugness and he pauses, noticing how he must sound to her. "And a lucky guess," he adds in a simpler tone of voice, determined to simply be himself and not the third son of the Ootori family who must do everything just right and better. Despite Tamaki's liberating influence, he still lapses into that role when he's not completely sure of himself and it still serves well, though it's not the person he wants Haruhi to know tonight. Tonight he wants only to be Kyoya.

"It really doesn't matter, does it?" he continues, speaking truth. "And I confess I'm not certain as my brothers often borrow them for weeks at a time."

"That makes sense."

"Does it?" He sighs. "I sometimes wonder if they're independent at all. Or perhaps my father just enjoys keeping them on a long leash with things of that nature."

"Is that typical for families like yours?" she asks, genuinely interested.

He hesitates. It's not like him to speak of family matters in depth with anyone. Not even Tamaki knows the half of it_. The Ootori Legacy - a history of outrageous manipulation and untold skeletons in the family closet._ _Still, knowing about my family matters to her, it seems, and understanding how wealthy families operate can only help her navigate those shark-infested waters…when the time comes._

"Very likely," he says. "Tamaki's family, Kaoru and Hikaru's, Mori-senpai's, Honey-senpai's," he replies to her innocent question, knowing it to be true of many upper-crust clans. "Our lives are directed and carefully managed, done so for our own good or so it's claimed." _Control of people, events and anything else money can buy. A time-worn strategy. _"Though it wouldn't be thoroughly fair to generalize based on personal experience alone."

"So what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you plan on following the path or blazing a trail?"

_Once again, you challenge and impress me._ Only now it feels like an invitation, not an indictment. "That's a unique way of putting it. I suppose I'll have to make that decision once my university studies are completed. My father will cover that but professional studies may be on my shoulders if I refuse to go along with his choice for my career. Both my brothers had their professional degrees paid for by my father who, in turn, employs them. My sister, Fiyumi, has the same offer but she hasn't pursued graduate studies despite her keen intelligence."

Haruhi's interest ratchets up a notch. "I didn't know you have a sister. She must be very pretty."

"Quite lovely and very sweet-natured. You'd like her. She's married now and lives in the Roppongi Hills area with her husband." _Neighborhood name dropping? Stop now, please. _

"Are your brothers married, too?"

"Yuuichi is, though I wouldn't say happily. Akito enjoys playing the field, as he would say, although those days are coming to an end."

"Why is that?"

"He's a few years shy of turning thirty and my parents insist that, as sons who must perpetuate the family name, we marry by that age to someone of suitable pedigree."

"Oh," Haruhi says quietly, her eyes dropping from his as she draws back.

_Shiite. Why did I go there? _"Haruhi?" he calls softly.

"What is it?" she replies without looking at him.

"Why are you so far away?" More than a simple query about physical space, Kyoya wonders how he can bridge the social chasm between them and if he, himself, isn't part of the problem. Their equality is real in so many other ways: their intelligence, their drive, their wit...their heat.

Things between them now are unlike the last ride they shared in a limo when he wouldn't even acknowledge the hand she deliberately laid on the center arm rest, concerned as he was about Tamaki's feelings despite the budding of his own. Now, he stows the median between them into the recess of the bench's back and extends his arm towards her, gesturing with one finger for her to come closer. She spies his hand and lifts her chin, her eyes meeting his once more. _Is she angry, hurt? Neither or both?_

"How my brothers allow my father to run their lives is their choice. I don't intend to let him make those choices for me. Didn't you chide me earlier today for even considering allowing my father to determine my future?"

"Does he know about us and tonight?" she asks outright.

Her bluntness reminds him of another conversation about his family role held with someone else who is important to him. Her query now, like Tamaki's observations then, is an innocent feint to gather information, but which ultimately reveals weakness or strength on his part. For a few moments, the dark-haired young man doesn't respond as his frustration with his best friend's overwrought emotions and his father's lack of appreciation tear at him in equal measure. _At least Tamaki will hear what I have to say._

"He wasn't at home when I got there and he wasn't at home when I left again," Kyoya responds trying to keep his voice even. "That's typical of our contact, but I will speak to him. I promise you."

"What about your mother?" _No, and this topic is closed._

"I'd rather not speak about her right now. In fact, I'd much rather not talk at all." The beckoning finger becomes an outstretched open palm. Haruhi considers him. _Wondering if I'll actually tell them about us aren't you? Truth is, I'm not sure how, but I will. _"Please," he urges, needing to set things right between them once more.

She takes in a breath, holds it a second or two, then releases. He watches her shoulders drop. _She's still wary of me and why shouldn't she be? _But she trusted him earlier today. Her response to him was earnest. Body memory inflames his thoughts and sends a flush of yearning through him and a mild urgency in his groin. He wants to hold her, caress her, to touch her skin and kiss her mouth. And he wants it _now_. He leans towards her only a bit. "Haru..." he murmurs.

And, as if the way he says her name, intimate in its way, can vanquish her misgivings, she negates the space between, settling into the niche his arm creates around her to pull her closer. His senses are heightened by her proximity and he notices that she's wearing a different perfume than before, this one a Fougere scent that enlivens his senses. _The twins again? Or Ryoji-san? No, definitely the twins. _But his huff is mitigated by the girl nestled beside him, as if his twisted soul is less so by virtue of her nearness. He places a soft kiss on her forehead to remind himself that _he_ is the one with Haruhi tonight and no one else.

He feels her sigh as she leans into him, her hands on her thigh. "That's better," he says, his cheek pressed to where his lips just left. "I was beginning to think we were back at Square One."

She pulls away a bit and he looks down to see her sideways glance. "And just what's that supposed to mean?" she asks. "Hm?"

Kyoya grabs the collar of her coat with his free hand, his thumb fingering the fur. "This really is a lovely pelt. I shall have to do something equally wonderful for you to match the whims of the Hitachiin brothers." _Non-reply via obfuscation in play._

"There's no need for that. You being with me tonight is enough."

"I've been raised to believe that enough is never enough, that more is better."

"Well, we differ that way. I just hope that I'm enough."

She says it without rancor or insecurity. It is simple self-estimation. _How can you even question that?_ He drops his face until their aspects are parallel. Her eyes are nearly as gray as his own in the shadowy light and therein he sees the straightforward attitude he's grown to appreciate.

"No," he says, as if considering her words. "I don't think so."

"Oh?" she breathes, stymied by his words, a trace of worry in those discerning eyes.

"I'll never get enough of you," he confesses sotto voce, wanting to dispel any and all doubt. "I told you I don't do things half-way. I'm either all in or not at all, Haruhi."

He holds her gaze, his face nearing hers with unerring precision. A few inches more…and she turns her face ever so slightly, suddenly shy. _As if this afternoon never happened. No, sweet girl, moving in reverse is disallowed. _But he doesn't insist. Instead, he tips his head to one side and whispers beside her ear, "Kiss me."

It would easy enough to nudge her face back to his, but he wants her to do it of her own accord. She must do more than simply turn now, needs to lean back and angle her chin so that her lips are close to his. Her movement is slow, deliberate and ever so evocative for him, excitement rising as an aching warmth in his lower abdomen. But he waits. Waits, until he sees her eyes, soft with emotion, before closing his own. Waits, until he feels the gentle press of her lips to his, innocent in execution, devastating in effect. He disciplines himself to remain still, even as the urge to embrace her swirls through him, the ache warming further and settling lower inside of him.

Their barely parted lips trade subtle, minute kisses, their breath mingling, tenderness and desire mixed. It is a chaste exchange, but that is its magic. Her hand clutches his coat while his drops into his lap, purposely keeping himself in check while keeping Haruhi involved. Potential swirls around them like a ribbon of gold wrapping the gift they give of themselves to one another.

The flame that's flared and flickered between them is now an ever-present burn for him - her affect on him sharp, her lips a confection he can't resist as he lets his linger against hers, without pressure, simply absorbing her closeness, her sweetness and her lack of resistance while his heart pounds in his chest and his mind grows cloudy, intoxication-by-Haruhi claiming logic. _Never, never enough._

A minute passes in silence, the only sound their heartbeats, their breathing and the sweet harmony of a viola and a violin romancing a tune. At length, she pulls back and lifts her hand, holding small space between them with it pressed flat against his chest.

"One more," he cajoles, opening his eyes to find hers on him. _Taking note of my reactions?_

"Uh-uh," she denies, though staying within a few inches of contact. "Too many sweets before dinner will spoil your appetite." Their words are soft, heard only by one another.

"A trite aphorism and 'a priori' conclusion at best," he intones with mock derision.

"No, an 'a pro-stériori' conclusion, albeit under literal and not symbolic circumstances, trite aphorisms notwithstanding" she retorts.

That gets her a soft chuckle and furthers his admiration. _Clever girl_. "I daresay I'm lucky you're not a second year, Haruhi. Tamaki and Ayame might feel threatened in their class standing."

"And you wouldn't?" she inquires with a speck of sarcasm.

"You really should be in the Debate Club."

"I was, in middle school. And that _was_ my intention before a certain Host Club made me their dog," she scolds without anger.

"But you stayed; no pun intended, of course."

She shakes her head at him, lips pressed together. "I have to admit it's been entertaining."

"And had you joined the Debate Club, we might not be sitting here right now."

"I wonder. You seem like the Debate Club type yourself."

"It _was_ my intention," he mimics. "Before a certain blond idiot convinced me otherwise."

"Really?"

"Remind me to tell you about it, some time. Just not now. I deal with Tamaki on a regular basis and I'd rather he not appear in either conversation or person tonight. I just want to focus on you." He moves to kiss her again, but she presses two fingers to his lips.

"I'm flattered," she says, her non-verbal communication clear. He takes her hand into his own and kisses her wrist in compensation, then presses it along with his own over his heart_._

"Actually, I'm the one who's flattered. Had you revealed yourself as a girl back when Tamaki first suggested it, there's no doubt that you would be on the arm of many of Ouran's young turks on a regular basis. I would merely be the co-founder of the odd but exceedingly popular Ouran High School Host Club. No more, no less."

"Isn't that what you told me our first kiss was going to be?"

"Did I?" _I did._ "It would seem I was mistaken."

"You really _have_ changed in the last year."

"Was I so awful when we first met?" _Probably. There was much going on at home, then._

"Not awful. A bit self-absorbed, maybe, but I knew there was a better man lurking inside."

"Please…let's not put a halo on my head or compare me to Tamaki again. I have a reputation to maintain." Her low-pitched, song-like laughter delights him.

"I thought we weren't bringing Tamaki into the conversation," she reminds, sitting back with hands still entwined as she turns fully to face him.

"We're not. Forget I mentioned his name. Forget him altogether."

"Fine. I'd much rather talk about you, anyway."

"There isn't much for you to know." _Right now._ "I've told you that."

"You were a child once. Tell me something about that." Her interest is so genuine that he's tempted to tell her things he's never told anyone, not even Tamaki. Then he recalls his German literature and Goethe's advice: "Every step of life shows much caution is required."

He pulls into himself, unsettled by her curiosity. "Really, Haruhi. My childhood was not the stuff of fairy tales and happy endings."

"Neither was mine." Her eyes hold his, hers holding the same trace of sadness as his own.

"Please forgive me. I don't mean to dampen your spirits on our first date."

"I'm not sad; just a little melancholy."

"About your mother?" Her surprised but pleased reaction means he's deduced correctly. _Intuition and acumen are lovers, after all._

"I would have liked her to help me get ready tonight, maybe let me wear her perfume. You know. Instead, I was outfitted by the twins and my dad."

"Not literally," he says, though it's more like a question. _Note to self: remind the twins as to why they should be afraid of me. Very afraid._

"As if, though they offered. They just brought the outfit over and did my eyes. My dad laced me up."

_Laced you up?_ Those three little words rivet Kyoya's thoughts. What's more, he finds it a little harder to breathe.

"What do you mean: laced you up?" he asks, his imagination and his libido blossoming despite his best intentions.

"Hikaru was supposed to bring a shirt and tie but Kaoru swapped it out for a bustier. It's quite pretty." _Are you trying to make me crazy?_

Dress slacks aren't nearly as confining as jeans, both a good and not-so-good fact; and he forces himself to close his mouth which had dropped open, albeit just a tad, but quite involuntarily. His mind races to gain control over himself as Haruhi's outfit tonight is enhanced in his mind by the addition of…_a bustier with laces?_ He softly groans to himself.

_New self-challenge: get Haruhi to take off her jacket. Odds of success - moderate. Difficulty level - challenging. _Beyond that immediate goal, he can't allow himself to consider. The image of Ootori Yoshio in a huge Usa-chan costume is forced to the forefront of his mind.

_Dammit!_

End - Chapter 17 - Fire in My Heart

A/N: For the record, MetroLyrics is the only website with accurate lyrics for this song. Songwriters are authors. Words should be listed correctly, imho.

* * *

Fire in My Heart - Simple Plan [Kyoya-centric]

I betcha didn't know you started up a chain reaction.  
I saw no intention on your face.  
It must have been some kind of chemical attraction.  
I felt the spark. It left a mark I can't erase (I can't erase).

It's like... (oh, oh)  
Something like a bolt of lightning  
(Oh, oh) Is going on inside.

'Cause I'm burning up. It ain't no joke.  
And all my cells are going rogue.  
Caught up in a blaze with no way out.  
And it's my self-control goes up in smoke.  
One more hit, I get so stoked that I -  
I'm glowing in the dark.  
You lit a fire in my heart! (Fire in my heart) (2x)

It was kicking that beat, steady in my body (in my body),  
'Til you pumped it up with gasoline.  
You struck a match and, just like that, you got me.  
Now I'm the brightest firework you've ever seen.

It's like... (oh, oh)  
No, there's no need to run for water.  
(Oh, oh) Don't ever put me out.

'Cause I'm burning up. It ain't no joke.  
And all my cells are going rogue.  
Caught up in a blaze with no way out.  
(Caught up in a blaze with no way out)  
And it's my self-control goes up smoke.  
One more hit, I get so stoked that I -  
I'm glowing in the dark.  
You lit a fire in my heart! (Fire in my heart) (2x)

Oh, oh. So come and warm your hands around me.  
Oh, oh. I will light you up tonight.

Cause I'm burning up. It ain't no joke.  
And all my cells are going rogue.  
Caught up in a blaze with no way out.  
(Caught up in a blaze with no way out)  
And it's my self-control goes up smoke.  
One more hit, I get so stoked that I -  
I'm glowing in the dark.  
You lit a fire in my heart!

Cause I'm burning up it ain't no joke,  
And all my cells are going rogue.  
Caught up in a blaze with no way out.  
And it's my self-control goes up smoke.  
One more hit, I get so stoked that I -  
I'm glowing in the dark.  
You lit a fire in my heart! (Fire in my heart) (3x)


	18. Catch Me

**Chapter 18 - Catch Me**

Traffic sprawls like a tentacled behemoth caught in the snare of a net that is the Tokyo street grid. Progress has gone from slow movement to complete lockdown. The two adolescents in the backseat of the elegant vehicle, however, are oblivious to everything except for one another.

Haruhi is hardly innocent in her remarks, though she says them as a statement of fact. _I'm not that naïve and I have learned a thing or two about how the male mind operates - visuals are everything, imagined or real._

The impact of her words, however, is clear and immediate. Kyoya's lack of retort, the barest narrowing of his eyes and his nearly soundless groan in response to her mention of the heretofore unknown garment is both amusing and gratifying.

_So Kaoru was right after all._ She struggles to contain the smile that threatens to become a chortle. _I don't want to be a tease, but I can't let an opportunity like this pass by unexploited. After all, turnabout is foreplay. _She can't help but let a few bubbles of laughter escape her, but Kyoya is caught in his own mind and doesn't react.

_Be fair, Haruhi. Fair? Fair?! He kept that secret about the vase from me. And then there's the matter of his snooping - still! I think it's time the inscrutable Ootori Kyoya learned the meaning of the word 'comeuppance.'_

"Kyoya" she calls as if waking a small child from a nap, looking him directly in the eyes. He blinks rapidly a few times and she sees reality re-emerge in his visage. She smiles at him and a secretive smile is returned, his active focus on her restored. She leans in, wide eyes betraying nothing of the mischief that lurks within. "Are you okay?"

"Perfectly fine." His dismissive manner belies the disequilibrium she just witnessed as he leans in closer, too.

"I kinda- lost you- for a bit." She grows closer to him with every phrase, letting her eyes deliberately drop to his mouth than slowly re-lift to his eyes. He leans in closer, too. _Closer __is__ better. And he is so very delicious. Teasing can wait until we've tried that again._ Her forwardness seems to confound him.

"I was just…thinking about…something." His eyes search hers.

"Me, too," she breathes, caught in his unwavering focus and a little scared of where it's all going, but ready to confront her fears.

She tips her face towards his and they melt in the middle, lips catching one another's. This time he doesn't hesitate to take her into his arms. The ardor she remembers returns and she feels an immediate wave of heat wash over her, making her weak as his lips slide against hers with intent, refusing quarter and spiking her pulse. _Kami help me._ But she wants it.

She's subject to the relentless pursuit of her mouth by his and she parts her lips for him just as she did that afternoon. He tastes spicy, like peppermint, only better since it's mixed with his own unique flavor. She reaches up and around his neck, fingers stroking involuntarily at the nape. Her burgeoning addiction to him sends a flicker of pleasure to her center, the muscles between her legs clenching as a pleasurable warmth effuses her there. An instinctive purr escapes her. _Did he hear that?_

He responds by running the tip of his tongue along her upper lip caught between his two, inciting her need for greater contact. She lets the tip of her own twirl around his, eliciting a grunt from him as he pulls her even closer, both arms wrapped securely around her, guaranteeing that she doesn't flee prematurely.

This is nothing like the boyish kisses the hosts bestow on the cheeks of their guests or the lingering touches left along their arms or their backs, the barest hint of what human sexuality offers. Kyoya is eighteen - a young man with a young man's appetites. _And this, this is just the start. How am I going to keep things cool? Ohhh, I'm in serious trouble, _she laments without a trace of sadness.

Two sharp raps resound against the partition. _Not again and not now, pleease._

"Master Kyoya?" Tachibana's muffled voice asks from the other side.

Kyoya pulls himself away still caught up in their kiss, releasing her with a lazy, but annoyed sough of air. He leans forward and rolls down the partition. "What is it?" he asks, impatience coloring his voice.

"It's not going to be possible to make your dinner reservation on time," his bodyguard replies, discreetly averting his eyes from the fact that the youngest Ootori's cheeks are faintly blushed and his eyeglasses are definitely askew.

"Can we still make the theater?"

Hotta answers, "That shouldn't be a problem, Kyoya-san. If I can get us to the next intersection, I can bypass most of this. Maybe there's another place you boys could go?"

Haruhi is jolted back into their charade. _I'm a dude to them and they must know we're on a date. Kami knows what else they're assuming, but so what? This is how it works for everybody. It doesn't matter if it's a girl-with-a-guy or a guy-with-a-guy or a girl-with-a-girl. Mom is right. Being physically close with someone you care about just feels right…and wonderful. _

She inhales and exhales with some force to calm her jangled nerves and sits back to savor the feelings still fluxing through her body. She presses cool hands to her own flushed cheeks and watches Kyoya as he looks out the front windshield which is wide and untinted, providing a better view of their surroundings.

Finally, he says, "I can see the Ootori Group tower from here which means we're just outside the governmental sector. Can you get us to Lotus, Hotta?"

"Leave it to me, young Master."

"Thank you."

Kyoya sits back without lifting the partition, his expression darker than she's ever seen it. In fact, all of his emotions tonight seem more intense than she's ever noticed them to be. _But why?_

Kyoya turns towards her. "My apologies, Haruhi. I wanted to take you to a particular sushi restaurant but-"

"Everything is fine," Haruhi says gently, placing a hand on his sleeve. "Any place you choose is going to be special somehow. And I really don't care where we go or what we do," _though I really do want to see the ballet._

"I'll make it up to you, but if you're pleased with it, then so am I."

"I'm pleased being with you or haven't you figured that out yet?"

_He's so bright about so many things, yet so unaware at the same time. Just another surprise in a surprising day. And surreal - the way the sky burned blue after so many dreary days, the appearance of Mom in a dream (or was it a vision) and most surreal of all, Kyoya appearing in my doorway right after Mom and I were discussing him. And then there was this afternoon-and just now. _

"Haruhi, are you alright?"

It's her turn to snap out of reverie. "Oh, I'm good. Just thinking how differently today has turned out from what I thought it would be when I woke up this morning."

"Better than expected, I hope."

"Not necessarily better. Just different."

"So I rank right up there with homework and laundry. Good to know where I stand." Bubbles of laughter escape her.

"Remember: 'arrogance invites ruin; humility receives benefits.'"

"Humility has never been a trait I find appealing but for clergy and the pious. I am neither."

"But isn't Pride considered a character flaw?"

"Consider this. You're attending Ouran because of pride: pride in yourself, in your work, in your future goals. And I would hardly be sitting beside you now if I couldn't feel pride in being allowed to be your escort this evening."

"I think that's known as a left-handed compliment."

"One of many I could tell you but, being averse to pride as you seem to be, I won't."

"And I think you just killed it," she grimaces.

"You of all people should understand and appreciate the benefits of being direct."

"Are you saying I'm blunt?"

"Not at all. Just honest. Please continue to be so."

"In that case," she says and reaches up with both hands to set his glasses aright. Kyoya considers her, then casts a glance at Tachibana sitting quietly in the front seat, then back to Haruhi who winks at him with a one-sided smile.

"Remember what they say about people who live in glass houses, Kyoya."

"That they should consider draperies?" More bubbles.

"Are you making a joke?"

"I told you that humor is usually lost on me but, yes. That was a decidedly feeble attempt at diffusing the tension." He looks quite serious.

Her laughter continues quietly until it subsides. "Well, it worked. You know, sometimes I don't know what to make of you."

"Which is how I prefer things, generally speaking, though getting to know one another better is why we're here tonight, is it not? Without distractions from daily routine and," he pauses and puffs out a breath. "Annoying interference from others?" he finishes, emphasis on 'annoying.'

"You mean the Host Club."

"Host Club, family, friends, teachers, classmates." He waves a hand as if to indicate the rest of the known world. "Frankly, I'm surprised we know one another as well as we do given the fact that our lives are equally busy and during club, you're usually engrossed in some scheme or other concocted by Tamaki."

"Tamaki and yourself, no?"

"It varies. He tends to come up with ideas and I tend to keep them affordable."

"That may be true, but I doubt you'd say 'no' to something Tamaki really wanted even if it did exceed the budget."

An arched brow is his reaction, but before he can reply, the car makes a sharp turn out of lane, crossing the double yellow line to head in the opposite direction. The rear of the vehicle fishtails a bit, tossing Kyoya and Haruhi into one another. He steadies her, keeping his arms around her. She looks up at him, surprised to see him dead calm.

"Is what Hotta just did legal?" she whispers.

"He would know. He is an automobile maven." Kyoya's voice gets louder as he addresses his chauffeur without turning his attention from Haruhi. "Hotta, could you please tell Haruhi-san what you used to do as a career before becoming my driver?"

"Me? I used to race Formula 1's at the Fuji Speedway for the Big Three. Made myself a chunk of change in my twenties."

"What made you stop?" Haruhi asks, unable to restrain her nosiness.

"Nearly got cooked in a six-car mashup, but all I lost was an arm."

"I'm so sorry," she says with shocked sympathy.

"Ahhh, it's okay," Hotta consoles in his gravelly voice. "It could have been my life, but Ootori-sama Sr. was an admirer. He actually paid for my prosthetic arm to be attached _and_ all the physical therapy that I needed at one of the best hospitals in Tokyo. I owe him a lot so when he asked if I'd like to work as Kyoya-san's driver, I said yes. Of course, I'm paying him back little by little. It's only right."

"Sounds very Ootori to me," Haruhi says with a sly look at the brunet beside her. Kyoya merely lifts his chin assessing her reaction. _The more I learn about you, the more curious I am._

The car turns a corner, away from the congestion and onto less occupied roadway. Kyoya continues, "And Tachibana has been my bodyguard since I was five."

"You needed a bodyguard at age five?" She looks at the back of the head of the man who is speaking to someone on his BlackBerry.

"There was once a kidnap attempt on my eldest brother when he was a child and ever since then, my parents have employed bodyguards to watch each of us, always. Isn't that right, Tachibana?"

The silver-haired agent disconnects and turns his head towards the center. "It is an honor to serve your family, young Master," comes the modulated reply spoken with educated diction.

"The gentleman you don't see but to whom Tachibana just spoke is Aijime. He runs general security on all locations I visit. This is why my itinerary must be so precise. It would be selfish and rude of me to be cavalier about things like that considering that their work is affected by my level of personal responsibility."

"I see," Haruhi responds and for the first time, gets why Kyoya is so often regimented and sometimes petulant.

"You have something that I will never have no matter how much money my family possesses.  
You have freedom, Haruhi. I do not and never will."

_I'd be snappish, too, if I had three adults following me around all the time. What kind of childhood did you have, Kyoya? Did you even have a childhood? _A pang of empathy resonates within herself.

The car slows, Hotta signals and they pull to the curb in front of a top hotel Haruhi has heard about but never seen from the inside. A uniformed doorman appears beside the vehicle, leaning over to pull open the passenger door which remains locked. Haruhi watches Tachibana leave the car and the doorman step back.

Her surprise must be written on her face. Kyoya explains, "My guards are the only ones allowed to permit entrance or egress unless I specify otherwise." _He really is treated like nobility. _

"I see," she answers again, though she doesn't. _Seems a bit much for the 21st century, actually._

"Thank you, Hotta," Kyoya tells the chauffeur. "Please be sure that you, Tachibana and Aijime have dinner while we do."

"Your gracious generosity is appreciated, Kyoya-san."

Tachibana is now holding the door open and they exit the car. Despite the fact that she's lived in Tokyo her entire life, Haruhi can't help but look up at the skyscraper that glows before her. A stark but elegant structure, she's certain she's the first person in her family tree to have reason to set foot in such an expensive and stylish setting.

Every person entering and exiting via the many doors that open onto the sidewalk are, without exception, dressed to the nines - the women coiffed, furred and bejeweled to perfection and the men decked out with as much panache as the ladies. Several couples observe them. One such duo, a middle-aged and stunning pair waiting for a limo or a taxi, takes note of them and the gentleman nods his head at Kyoya who returns the gesture with less deference. _That man is more than twice his age but Kyoya outranks him? What kind of world does he live in?_ _Certainly, not the one I do. _

Haruhi is certain they're being judged by many eyes and, all at once, feels out of place. Kyoya grabs her arm and tucks it firmly within his own, guiding her to the entrance. As they cross the broad sidewalk, he leans over and speaks softly in her ear. "If you're going to be on my arm, you'll need to get used to being watched. Ootoris draw attention." _I'll say. _She nods and he adds, "But no worries. You look beautiful." She looks up and him and casts a grateful smile.

"So do you," she says and they pass through the heavy glass door being held for them, smiling at one another.

Under his direction, they move through the immense lobby with purpose, Kyoya smoothly navigating the busy and populated space. Around them are both Japanese and other nationalities speaking in various languages as they discuss plans for the evening, greet friends or business associates and otherwise people-watch. To Haruhi it seems like a modern version of the ancient Imperial court where only the wealthiest and most infuential families gathered to admire and be admired amidst burnished wood, sparkling glass, polished metals and plush broadloom.

As she takes it all in, a young woman with dark hair swept in a chic up-do decorated with a diamond-studded comb and wearing an ermine shrug over a magenta slub silk pantsuit approaches them.

"Kyoya-kun, so nice to run into you here," she murmurs with familiarity. "Where have you been hiding?"

"Momiji. It's been a while. Are you here with your family or friends?"

"Family. We just had dinner and we're going to theater."

"As are we. May I present Fujioka Haruhi, a friend and fellow Host in the club I manage."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Haruhi says in her usual bright manner.

The pretty-but-haughty girl barely acknowledges the greeting, glancing at where Kyoya's hand rests on Haruhi's linked arm. _She seems older than a high school student so she must be a social acquaintance._

"Of course, Host Club," the dark-eyed Momiji fawns. "Such a sweet, high-schoolish idea. If I were a bit younger, I might visit but my studies and practice take all of my time, as you know. I'm working with a new coach and he's absolutely merciless. I can barely squeeze in time with my stylist."

_She sounds like some of our guests. That's for sure. Wait a minute… _Haruhi recognizes the girl from the sports section of the newspaper as Suzuki Momiji, a rising seed tennis player.

"You're a diligent student and a fine athlete, Momoji," Kyoya compliments. "I'm sure your family is quite proud of you."

"And yours of you as well, though it must be difficult to work so hard without due recognition. I feel for you, Kyoya-kun," she pouts with a little moue. "Do let me know if there's ever _anything_ I can do to help you feel…better."

_Is she for real? Sounds like a spoiled brat to me. Maybe a visit to Host Club could dissipate some of those raging hormones, too,_ though the thought of Momiji as one of Kyoya's guests elicits a distinct tinge of jealousy, surprising her with its potency. _Whoa._

"Your kindness knows no limits," Kyoya says to the young woman, Host affect in place, though Haruhi hears the superficiality of his pleasantry, imagining how her statement must bother him. "Now if you'll excuse us."

"Enjoy the theater," Haruhi adds in a genial manner.

"Yes," the girl sneers. "I will."

Kyoya steers Haruhi away. From the expression on his face, Haruhi realizes that he is just as relieved as she that they have done so, causing her to feel unaccountably happy and worried at the same time. They take the elevator to the 37th floor and disembark. Haruhi has never been in a restaurant that sat any higher than the third floor of any structure and she inhales an audible breath at the sight that meets her eyes.

Lotus is large and always busy; serving, as it does, a mixed crowd of international, national and local patrons. It boasts an excellent reputation for Cantonese cuisine with a Japanese flair and good service. But what makes the restaurant more than just another fine eatery are the views of the Tokyo Sky Tree, now alight with a million brilliant points as it reaches into the heavens that boasts its own bauble of light, a full moon gleaming over the sprawl of eastern Tokyo which can be seen beyond the glass walls that encircle three sides of the dining room.

"Perhaps this is a better choice after all," Kyoya says at her side. "I hadn't considered the panorama. May I take your coat, Haruhi?"

His mood has brightened. _Good._ Haruhi undoes the buttons and feels Kyoya assisting her in removing it from her shoulders. _I don't need the help, but I do like him fussing over me._ He heads to the coat check and hands her coat and scarf to the waiting attendant before doffing his own.

He pivots on his heel and approaches her, taking her in with an appreciative look and reminding Haruhi that there's basic justice to be meted out this evening with a simple bodice hugging garment as her weapon of choice. Still, she can't deny that his own appearance has her smiling. _And I thought the view outside the window was gorgeous._

Kyoya has always been fashion-conscious, but in unlikely ways. Tonight he wears a slim-cut black tweed suit, white oxford shirt with cuffs unbuttoned, and a teal blue merino wool v-neck sweater. _Classic._ His need to distance himself from the pack, however, has him sporting black-and-white perforated spectators and an outrageously loud pocket square casually tucked. Y_ou make it look so easy and you carry it so well. Show off._ But she admires his confidence.

As they approach the reservation desk, she tells him, "This is a much better look for you than the purple dress you wore when the Lobelia girls came to school."

"You think so?"

"I do, though I did like the fan."

"Did you? I think we still have that somewhere. I'll have to find it for you."

The maitre'd greets them warmly and personally shows them to a table that isn't directly next to a window but which has a better view situated, as it is, on the higher floor of the bi-level restaurant. He pulls out the chair for Haruhi who seems surprised by his action, though she allows him to seat her. _Do rich people always get treated this way?_

Two enormous menus are given to them. Haruhi's love of sushi runs deep but her second favorite cuisine is Chinese. They listen politely as the maitre'd recites the specials of the day, then leaves them. Haruhi opens the menu and her brow furrows.

"What's the matter?" Kyoya asks.

"There are no prices." He smiles at her benevolently.

"Not on yours. Only on mine."

She bristles a bit and stares at him across the white linen tablecloth, candles and decorative place settings. "Well, that seems silly, don't you think? I'm not a child, Kyoya."

"But you are my guest and despite women coming into their own in society, I don't want you to worry about the cost of anything here. Please don't take it as anything other than that, Haruhi. However, if it truly bothers you, I'll have a regular menu brought to you."

"Yes, please," she replies, determined to keep their footing on an equal plain as often as possible. She doesn't know how he gets the maitre'd back beside their table in less than a minute when brisk trade is occurring all around them.

"Ootori-sama, how can I be of service?" the portly man asks.

"Could you please bring a second full menu for my companion to peruse? And please remember that we have theater tickets."

"Of course." He leaves and returns swiftly, retrieving the first menu and handing Haruhi a duplicate. He bows to her saying, "My apologies, young sir. There was no intention to offend and I hope you will not hold it against myself, the Lotus or the hotel establishment."

"Of course not," Haruhi replies, more troubled by the man's deference than the un-priced menu. The man departs and she opens the second menu. _Dad and I could eat for a week for what it costs for one dinner here._ But the items on the menu are tantalizing. _Abalone, prawns…Yamagata beef? _Her mouth is already watering._ Forget dumplings. Well, maybe as a side dish._

"See something you like?" Kyoya asks, amusement in his voice.

"Everything," she asserts, deciding that such a meal must be worth its cost and she will savor every bite. That and the company of the young man sitting opposite who, in the soft glow of candlelight and ambient lighting looks good enough to eat himself. _And he's here with me. What are the odds of that?_ "I'm sorry I was difficult," she states.

"And, about Momiji. She was rude to you and I should have called her on it."

"So we're even. Is she a friend of yours?"

"We were friends a while back, but no longer."

Haruhi doesn't pursue the topic, her instincts telling her to leave it alone for now. _I'm sure I'll find out at some point._

They make their selections and Haruhi allows Kyoya to place her order, despite considering ordering for herself as any modern woman would. _It just makes me feel… _But she stops mid-thought. _How does he make me feel? We've been together almost half the day and I know he wants me. That's obvious. But it's not just that. When I'm with him, I feel…what? Pretty? Girlish? Special? What is it?_

"Haruhi?"

"Yes?"

"You're drifting again. Are you worried about something? Perhaps what was on your mind earlier today?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you told me you'd been dreaming but that it wasn't a nightmare. Yet you'd clearly been crying."

"Oh. That. Actually, I did have a lovely…dream, I guess you could call it. My mom visited me."

"Ah. Now I understand. Mothers are special, are they not?"

"Yes, of course. Are you close with your mom?"

Kyoya hesitates, then replies carefully, "My mother is an exceptional person, but there are… circumstances that are beyond one's control when one is younger that keeps relationship at a distance." She watches the way he opens up, like the flower on a snake gourd vine in summer, beautiful and rarely seen, before closing in on himself again. She knows better than to pursue that, too.

_There's so much I don't know about you. And so much I feel as if I'll never know. I wonder how much Tamaki knows. I've already touched on two sensitive subjects. Might as well go three for three._

"Kyoya?"

"Yes?"

"Are you and Tamaki having an argument?"

He looks at her over the tops of his glasses before pushing them up. "If I didn't know that it was you sitting across the table from me, I'd swear that our fearless leader had occupied your seat and asked one of his many non-sequitur questions. What makes you think that?"

He's only mildly annoyed and she's determined to learn something about the Shadow King that she doesn't know. "Well, your conversation with him on the phone earlier today and the way you kept trying to avoid talking about him. You even changed the music in the car. So I think you're in an argument with him." His placid expression remains neutral. "You are aren't you?"

Their dinner arrives just then; an assortment of items from which they can sample. It's less extensive than it would be otherwise because of their schedule, but Haruhi insists on tasting everything. Kyoya is more particular, having enjoyed the delicacies presented all his life. Among the fare she finds irresistible are the Swallow's Nest soup, prawns with mango mayonnaise, soy patties with pine nuts and, of course, rice dumplings filled with spicy beef.

"This is all so delicious," she exclaims as they dine. Kyoya smiles at her in an indulgent way. Their conversation covers ground on easier topics like final exams and next year's courses to be taken, along with books they've both enjoyed and political causes they can both defend while avoiding the ones on which they disagree. _Not enough time for that._

Their meal winds down and Kyoya orders a teapot of Nantou White. He pulls his linen napkin from his lap, folds it loosely and lays it beside his plate. He places his chopsticks side by side on a diagonal across his plate, at ten and four as if the plate were a clock. And, just as she has all evening, Haruhi follows suit, committing to memory the proper etiquette she hasn't been taught but is learning on the fly from an expert. Their dishes are cleared at once and their tea arrives, hot and fragrant. They imbibe quietly for a time.

At last, Haruhi observes, "I know we serve instant coffee at club, but I never see you drink it. Don't you like coffee?"

"As a rule, no, and instant coffee, never. Nothing worthwhile in life is instant as most things that are done well take a certain amount of time and care to develop. A good tea is all that in a simple cup. And I prefer the white teas because of their purity, a rare quality in a world of degeneration. Such clarity of essence reminds one that it is possible, even if improbable, to keep one's integrity intact."

"I never realized you're a philosopher, Kyoya."

"There are a great many things about me which you do not know."

_That's an understatement._ Haruhi steers their conversation back to club matters and tries once more to get to the bottom of the ongoing but mysterious dispute between two people who mean a great deal to her - one as a friend and one as something more and becoming more still as time passes in his company.

"So, what exactly is the problem between you and Tamaki right now? I hope I don't have to yell at you like I do the twins when they argue. I thought you guys were best friends."

"We are, but even best friends don't always agree on things." The cup he holds is set onto its saucer and pushed towards the center of the table. Once again, he manages to get the attention of the maitre'd who brings the bill. _Trying to short circuit answering me, eh? No can do, sempai._

"That's true, I suppose. And I can see Tamaki acting juvenile, but you? You always seem to take his bullcrap in stride. Ooops, I'm sorry."

"For what? It is bullcrap. He is the King of Bullcrap."

"Then how are you friends?"

"Long story short? Our fathers insisted. But, much to my surprise, we've actually grown quite close and become genuine friends. But he is still the King of Bullcrap, overly demanding and, well, I simply get tired of accommodating his impetuosity."

"So why do it? Seems to me that your family already has pretty high expectations of you that you try to meet. You shouldn't have to jump through hoops for your friends. And look - I know Tamaki is demanding, but he's equally giving. Everything is over the top, but he isn't malicious or even always aware of how his actions affect others."

"And that, my dear Haruhi, is his blind spot in which every person who comes into contact with him sits at one time or another. It's exhausting keeping track of his meandering albeit fine mind."

"So then, he's done something regarding you that you think he should be more sensitive about but isn't." The look on Kyoya's face tells her what she needs to know. "It's true, isn't it?"

"That would be a fair appraisal of my issue with Suoh Tamaki right now. And no, I don't want to discuss it. At all."

"Discuss what? I heard my name. What's going on?" They both recognize the voice. Haruhi looks over Kyoya's shoulder and smiles. Kyoya just sighs and closes his eyes.

The King of Bullcrap and Prince of the Ouran High School Host Club has discovered them.

End - Chapter 18 - Catch Me

**A/N: So, only one day over deadline. Unbelievable, given my recent work schedule. My thanks to Destinies Entwined and rhetoricfemme for inspiring elements and inspiring me, as well.**

* * *

Catch Me - Demi Lovato [Haruhi-centric]

Before I fall too fast,  
Kiss me quick but make it last  
So I can see how badly this will hurt me  
When you say goodbye.

Keep it sweet. Keep it slow.  
Let the future pass and don't let go.  
But tonight I could fall too soon  
under this beautiful moonlight.

But you're so hypnotizing.  
You've got me laughing while I sing.  
You've got me smiling in my sleep.  
And I can see this unraveling.  
Your love is where I'm falling,  
But please don't catch me.

See this heart won't settle down,  
Like a child running scared from a clown.  
I'm terrified of what you do.  
My stomach screams just when I look at you.

Run far away so I can breathe  
Even though you're far from suffocating me.  
I can't set my hopes too high  
'Cause every hello ends with a goodbye.

But you're so hypnotizing.  
You've got me laughing while I sing.  
You've got me smiling in my sleep.  
And I can see this unraveling.  
Your love is where I'm falling,  
But please don't catch me.

So now you see why I'm scared.  
I can't open up my heart without a care.  
But here I go. It's what I feel.  
And for the first time in my life  
I know it's real.

But you're so hypnotizing.  
You've got me laughing while I sing.  
You've got me smiling in my sleep.  
And I can see this unraveling.  
Your love is where I'm falling,  
So please don't catch me.

If this is love, please don't break me.  
I'm giving up, so just catch me.


	19. Just a Man

**Chapter 19 - Just a Man**

Dinner with Suoh Yuzuru is always an event. The man's suave personality coupled with his wealth always ensures that he never dines alone. Whether with a business colleague, a friend, a date or a family member, he is surrounded by people who want to be near him. It's been one of the secrets to his success his entire life. And it seems that his only offspring, young Tamaki, is much like him in that regard.

"Aren't you, Tamaki?" he asks the young man sitting in the passenger seat of the vintage Maybach sports coupe he's driving towards one of their favorite restaurants for dinner - Lotus. They don't have a reservation. They don't need one. They are ever welcome guests at not only Lotus, but at each one of the many fine dining establishments at the Roi Grand Hotel, the flagship of the many Suoh-owned establishments.

"What's that, Father?" Tamaki turns from the window out of which he's been staring to address his sire who's been steadily speaking to him while he's been lost in his thoughts - very specific thoughts about what's been going on in his life for the last few weeks.

Yuzuru reiterates, "I said that you're very much like me in personality, though your looks favor your lovely mother."

"I suppose so. You're correct that she is a lovely person, though. I hope she's doing well. Do you know if she is, father?" _Tu me manques, maman. {I miss you, Mom} _

Yuzuru falters at his son's direct question. Anne-Sophie's health is something he keeps tabs on but he doesn't think it wise to keep her memory fresh in the younger Suoh's mind, considering that he may never see her again. Why bring up painful emotions?

"Now, now. If your mother's health had taken a negative turn, I would certainly know and I haven't heard anything of that nature."

"You would tell me if that happened, right? Please, don't ever keep that from me," the blond replies, somewhat agitated and unsatisfied with his father's non-answer.

"Of course, Son."

Tamaki sighs with relief._ I wish I could talk to Kyoya, but he's probably on his date with Haruhi by now. I can't imagine them dating though Haruhi did go out with Hikaru and Kaoru, once each. Of course, that went nowhere. _He brightens a bit._ Maybe her date with Kyoya won't go so well, either, and they'll realize that they're not suited for each other. Then Kyoya will notice that I'm the one who's always been there for him ever since we met. So-o, when this whole Haruhi-Kyoya thing blows over, Kyoya will see that he and I are meant to be and Haruhi and I won't be rivals anymore. Everything will be back to normal. _He pauses. _Normal, eh? What does that even mean? _

If there was a corner he could crouch in, he'd be there. As there isn't, he slides down into the contoured seat with pursed lips and furrowed brow, arms crossed over his chest.

"Is everything alright with you?" Yuzuru queries, following a quick glance at his son.

Lips still pursed, the blond responds, "I'm fine."

"Then why are you scrunching up your face that way? Do that often enough and it'll stay like that."

Tamaki is startled out of his funk at the thought of anything interfering with his looks. He sits up straight again and runs a hand through his hair.

"Want to tell me what's going on?" the elder Suoh continues. He doesn't see his son nearly as often as he should, but his life is complicated as he navigates work, family and other responsibilities.

"Nothing."

"Tamaki, I know we're still learning about one another, but I can tell when something is bothering you."

"How's that?"

"Father's intuition? Your reaction about your mother? Your pouting like a child? Anyone could see you're troubled about something."

"It's nothing I can't handle." Tamaki keeps his eyes dead ahead.

"I know it's not your studies, so it must be about your friends - perhaps that club you run?"

"In a way." Tamaki briefly toys with the idea of broaching his latest insight into himself, then reconsiders.

"How so?"

_You'll know eventually, but I can't say anything. Not until I know where I stand with Kyoya. And maybe not even then. I hate keeping secrets, but this one will have to stay kept for awhile._

"It's nothing. Really, Father. I just have some things on my mind." _Like wondering what Kyoya and Haruhi are doing right now._

"You know you can tell me anything." Yuzuru's interest in Tamaki has always been sincere. He loves the boy.

"I know. I just want to see if I can work things out on my own." _Like Kyoya suggested. I know he's irritated with me today and I don't know why. He was fine on Friday and his usual self on Saturday. But today… I just need to talk to him about what happened between us and let him know that I'm not going to make trouble. If he and Haruhi do work out, I won't stand in their way. I just don't know if I can do that._

"Commendable. You're nearly eighteen and should be more independent. Have you thought about what you might do this summer? I was thinking you could intern at Suoh Enterprises. Or maybe at the workplace of one of your friends' parents. The Hitachiins? The Ootoris? I'm sure Ootori Kyoya will be doing exactly that. He's a sharp young man and understands his future role well. It's time for you to start viewing life more seriously, too."

"Would you mind terribly if we talked about this another time?"

"Very well, Tamaki. Just remember, I'm here and I care."

Tamaki nods and stares out the window once more.

_Kyoya. Maybe Father is right. I should be thinking of my future and what possible future could Kyoya and I have together? Now, Haruhi and Kyoya? But that's not how it should go. _

He envisions his two friends embracing and quickly dispels the thought._ Haruhi should remain pure and untouched until she's married, just like Mori-sempai and Honey-sempai said. And if she falls for anyone, it should be me, though that wouldn't work out very well now, would it? But I am the Princely type, not Kyoya. Doesn't make sense. Well yeah, it does; but who'd have pegged Haruhi as liking the Cool type? And she did say 'yes' to him asking her out which means… Wait. Just how and when did that happen, anyway? Ootori...argh. Doesn't matter. She said 'yes.' _

The superintendent of Ouran's school board pulls into the city garage attached to the hotel. He slides into a choice spot without question. The valet driver greets them with great respect as he opens the door for the elder Suoh. Tamaki lets himself out of the passenger side and doffs his vintage Yomiori baseball jacket, trading it for a fitted black wool blazer to be worn over an open-necked white dress shirt and indigo skinny jeans. He seals the Maybach's door gently, just as his father requires.

They step onto the narrow concrete walkway that wends upwards to street level but instead of heading there, they go to a plain blue door with a keypad. Yuzuru decodes the latch mechanism and they pass within. The tasteful interior passage snakes around a corner or two before a tiny elevator appears beside a flight of stairs. Tamaki bounds up the steps like a small child in a non-race with an indulgent parent. At the top, he waits for his father who arrives shortly and they proceed past the fire door into an Employees Only area behind the front desk of the Roy Grand Hotel.

"Good evening, Suoh-sama and son," the Chief Hotelier greets them with a deferential bow. "Lotus is expecting you."

"Fine, fine," Yuzuru says in a cheerful voice. "And how are you this evening, Setsuko-san? That's a lovely necklace you're wearing this evening."

"Thank you and I'm doing well. Your interest is an honor."

"Business is good, I may assume?"

"Very good, indeed. Kaicho Suoh was here only the other day and was not displeased."

"That's nearly a compliment." Yuzuru's surprise is sincere.

"We are grateful for her continued guidance."

"I'll be sure to tell her so. We'll be going now."

"Have an excellent dinner, Suoh-sama and son. Please let me know if there is anything that you require during your visit."

"I certainly will," Yuzuru says with a sly wink at the middle-aged woman who, while attractive, is happily married with three children. No matter to Suoh Yuzuru whose appreciation of womankind remains in full force at all times. Watanabe Setsuko, accustomed to the man's flirtatious ways, maintains her professional persona as a Suoh corporate manager, but smiles after the duo leaves her sight.

Father and son leave the office for the busy lobby. Tamaki has done nothing but observe, forcing himself to pay attention to how his father behaves in business-related circumstances.

'_It's an important part of being a gentleman to behave correctly, especially when dealing with those above or below you in status, young Master.' Shima-san's words meander through his mind. 'One must be neither too arrogant nor too humble.' Father is so polished in dealing with people, yet so friendly. Grandmother would probably disapprove of the friendly part, but I saw that twinkle in Watanabe-san's eye. She liked it when father teased her. I wish Grandmother could loosen up just a little and not be displeased with me. I don't need compliments. Just her acceptance would be fine._

They enter the sophisticated atmosphere of Lotus and the Restaurant Manager greets them, seating them personally at a particular table situated at a particular angle beside a particular window because it's where Tamaki once said he liked the view and Yuzuru remembers that. They place their usual order, each quietly enjoying the view of the city below as they wait for their meals. Such meditative silence is atypical for the loquacious young man seated on the diagonal from him, as Yuzuru prefers, in order to keep their conversations more private. Tonight, however, something is clearly on Tamaki's mind.

_Moonlight is so romantic and our guests will love it. We can have a faux moonlit star party with some sort of star-related activity as amusement. Maybe zodiac cosplay, though there are twelve signs and only seven of us so that won't work, unless we each take two signs and I play the Royal Astrologer. I have to ask Kyoya. _He pulls out his phone as habit and begins to search.

"Tamaki," Yuzuru gently chides. Tamaki looks up, phone in hand.

"I'm sorry, Father. I just had a wonderful idea for the Host Club and wanted to let Kyoya know."

"It can't wait until tomorrow? We're here together. Let's just talk, shall we?"

"Very well." The phone is stowed with some disappointment.

They chat about how Tamaki's studies are progressing and what Yuzuru's plans are for the renovation of one of their business-class hotels in a less prestigious part of Tokyo. Tamaki listens as attentively as he can, but he finds himself losing focus more than once. Their entrees complete, Yuzuru orders dessert hoping that sweets will cheer up the melancholy teen.

"Tama-chan, do you remember when you first got Kuma-bear?" The blond's smile returns somewhat, his eyes questioning.

"You gave him to me."

"Do you remember that there were originally three bears?" Tamaki's brow wrinkles as he thinks and then his smile is genuine.

"Now that you mention it, yes. One was black, I think, and the other was pink."

"That is correct. Do you also remember the story behind them?"

"Goldilocks, of course."

"Of course. Your mother wanted you to be tri-lingual so she gave you books in Japanese, French and English equally. She once told me that you loved the British story of Goldilocks, though I can't imagine why." Yuzuru smiles as he looks at his son's own golden locks and back into the violet eyes, so like his mother's. "So, the next time I came to visit you, I brought you three stuffed bears."

"I remember that. And the books, hundreds of them it seemed." _Merci, maman. {Thanks, mom}_ "It was Papa Bear...Mama Bear...and Kuma-bear?" Tamaki's befuddled expression makes Yuzuru gently laugh.

"You hated calling him Baby Bear so you re-named him. Your mother said he was your constant companion after that and I know you still have him, somewhere."

"Of course. Kuma-bear is my oldest friend. One doesn't ignore one's friends." _Unless your name is Ootori._

"One shouldn't ignore anyone about whom they care."

"I know that. That's why I created the Host Club. Everyone needs attention and that's what we provide."

"It's still all very innocent, isn't it? I wouldn't want you or myself to be seen as condoning something sordid."

"Quite above-board. What happens at club is pretty tame." _Why are you asking about this?_

"You know, Tamaki, when you began your club as a First Year, I didn't think it would last. But here you are, finishing your Second Year with Host Club still thriving."

"It's pretty amazing, isn't it? I have to say that some credit goes to Kyoya, as our club manager. Of course," Tamaki brags with a toss of his head, "I bring in the most guests."

"We Suohs do seem to have a way with the ladies, don't we?" Yuzuru chuckles.

"I noticed."

"Hmmm? Oh, you mean with Watanabe-san. That's just harmless flirting, Son. Done respectfully, it's just another way to charm people, though how you charm women is different than how you charm men.

"I see." _I hadn't thought of that._

"Naturally. Women prefer to be admired for their appearance, men for their accomplishments." Tamaki looks uncertain, so Yuzuru continues. "That doesn't make one exclusive of the other. It's just been my experience that if you ask a woman if they would rather be told that they're beautiful or that they're accomplished, they'll say 'beautiful' more often than not. And admiring someone's qualities is appreciated by both."

Tamaki digests those ideas as dessert is served_. Haruhi isn't like that at all and I don't remember maman ever saying anything like that, either. _He sighs_. And maman is certainly beautiful. And Haruhi, though she's more cute than beautiful. And, of course, Kyoya. All the hosts are. Oh, I can't help it. I'm affected by beautiful things._

"Is it wrong to focus on beauty, Father?"

"Not wrong, Tamaki, as long you realize that beauty is, as the proverb states, in the eye of the beholder. It also comes in many forms. Think of your piano music. Breathtakingly beautiful. Or the paintings Kyoya-kun exhibits at school from time to time. He has a talent to create beauty that way. Even a person's nature can be beautiful."

"Like maman."

"Yes. Exactly."

"She's beautiful, inside and out."

"I know you miss her, Son, but it's for the best. I'm just sorry that I wasn't always there for you more when you were growing up. Still, there's no point in having regrets about things you can't change. I've made mistakes, but we all do. How you handle yourself moving forward is what determines your future."

Yuzuru's sudden seriousness makes Tamaki sit up and pay attention. He leans in about to ask his father more about that when someone says, "Chairman Suoh?"

Yuzuru looks from his son to the couple approaching their table. They are the Abes, parents of one of Ouran's students and a distant relation to Japan's Prime Minister. Yuzuru greets them warmly and introduces Tamaki. The pair's first-born son is a second-year and they're seeking advice on the merit of early graduation in Japan in order to allow the beginning of university in the U.S. as of January.

"Well," Yuzuru begins. "That's a complex question and I must ask you several things before I answer. Would you care to join my son and myself for dessert?" They decline, but Yuzuru insists. "You must try the almond pudding, and the rose-flavored sponge cake is unique in all of Japan." Tamaki smiles at the couple and nods his agreement, despite being disappointed at having his personal time with his father interrupted. Still, and regardless of the circumstance of the meeting, Yuzuru always makes time for the parents of Ouran's students. Always. Tamaki knows this only too well.

"Father, if you and the Abes would excuse me for a bit, I really would like to stretch my legs. Please enjoy your chat."

Yuzuru comprehends that Tamaki is not yet interested in the topic at hand, though he should be. "Very well, Son. If that's your preference." The blond stands, bows to the couple and heads away from the table without looking back.

_It isn't as easy as some imagine being the son of the Chairman of Ouran Academy. Being perfect in academics, appearance and personal charm isn't impossible, but it does require constant maintenance. And sharing one's parent with many people._ As he walks, he continues to take in the view beyond. Tokyo is a great metropolis, but he misses Paris. What he hasn't told anyone is that he is thinking about college, especially the Sorbonne. Or Ouran. Or Stanford in the United States. _College just seems so far away and yet it's almost here. No, I won't think about that yet._

He climbs the four wide, carpeted steps that lead to the second level to continue his circuit around the restaurant. _It was fun hearing Father talk about Kuma-bear. How could I not remember naming him? _That's when he hears a familiar voice saying, "That would be a fair appraisal of my issue with Suoh Tamaki right now. And no, I don't want to discuss it. At all."

A slow turn of his head to the left reveals a small table inhabited by two well-dressed adolescents dining together. He recognizes Kyoya's three-quarters profile, the brunet's attention fully focused on a boy sitting across from him. _What's going on now? Where's Haruhi? Is Kyoya out with a - younger boy?_ A mixture of happiness, confusion and dread fills him as he approaches, trying to remain calm.

End - Chapter 19- Just a Man

**A/N: Yes, Kaoru and Haruhi went on a date, in the Manga.**

* * *

Just a Man - The Classic Crime [Yuzuru-centric]

Dripping wet with practiced sincerity.  
Cute slogans for tangible mysteries.  
You reduce your god to a TV commercial  
(Pruned to profit your ego).  
"Buy what I sell", you scream.  
(Advertise, advertise) "Purchase my lifestyle."

I once held the key,  
But now I have nothing.  
And you are so naive.  
I'm sorry for leading you along.  
I'm just a man, I'm just a man, I'm just a man.

Wake me up and wipe the cliché from my eyes.  
It's killing me when all I see is hypocrisy and lies.  
I know that my faults bring me down. It's a constant battle.  
That's why I have to be honest with you now.  
I'm not your saint. I'm not your savior.

I once held the key,  
But now I have nothing.  
And you were so naive.  
I'm sorry for leading you along.  
I'm just a man, I'm just a man, I'm just a man.

I once held the key to everything you ever dreamed of.  
Now I have nothing. I'm sorry for leading you along.  
I'm just a man, I'm just a man, I'm just a man.

Just a man.

Just a man.


	20. Best Kept Secret

**Chapter 20 - Best Kept Secret**

It takes all of his willpower to keep a smile on his face, but he dare not embarrass his father here. Meanwhile, his fists are clutched by his sides, imaginary sweat drops beading his fair hair as he approaches Kyoya and Haruhi's table. "Discuss what? I heard my name. What's going on?"

Haruhi looks up and Tamaki stops dead in his tracks, his emotions clouding his recognition skills. He turns to his best friend to claim with indignance, "Kyoya - how can you be so cavalier with your affections? Have you no shame? Dragging Haruhi into your web and now, this-" he says pointing to without looking at Haruhi. "This poor boy who clearly has no idea who he's dealing with. You are not the gentleman I thought you were."

"Ummm, Tamaki-sempai? What are you doing here and what are you talking about?"

His vision may be less than perceptive, but his hearing is fine. His head turns in increments until he's looking at the "boy" he's known for the last ten months as Fujioka Haruhi. Only, she's made-over as he's never seen her, but still his very own Haruhi - his daughter, his friend, his rival.

"Ha- ru- hi?" His hand drops as his body slumps into itself, hysteria dropping from off the chart to manageable. "You look…different."

"I know," she chuckles. "You can blame Kaoru and Hikaru. Did you put them up to this? It's a little more than I'd have done, but s'ok. Are you having dinner here?" Her pleasure at seeing him, so genuine and so unaware of underlying dynamics, makes him pause to breathe.

_She thinks I'm helping Kyoya._ He turns his head back to regard the brunet. Kyoya's expression is unreadable, though Tamaki catches the stiffening line of his back as he sits straighter in his chair and the tic of his jaw from clenched teeth. Old habits die hard and Kyoya's early warning signs of a blow-up are clear. Still, like a moth drawn to the flame that will singe its wings, he can't resist.

He recovers himself, ignoring Kyoya to turn back to the wide-eyed first-year, lifting her hand from where it rests on the table into both of his. He bends down and meets her eyes, saying "Haruhi, Daddy thinks you look positively radiant. I didn't recognize you. How is it that you and Mommy are here together?"

"Thank you, I guess. I thought everyone knew Kyoya and I were going out tonight. The twins did."

He drops one of his hands to press it to his breast. "Oh, I did. We are a family and should keep one another close. Isn't that right, Mommy Dearest?" Tamaki gazes fondly at the bespectacled brunet who whose eyes are beginning to narrow. "I was just wondering how it is that you ended up at Lotus."

"Traffic," Kyoya responds through tight lips. "This was simply a more convenient arrangement given our plans." He doesn't embellish.

"Kyo-ya," Tamaki says looking down at his friend who lifts his chin and tips his head to one side to regard the blond. "You should have told me you were coming here. I could have gotten you the best table in the house."

"Thank you, Tamaki, but we're fine. Better than fine." The brunet casts a deliberate glance towards the lower level. "You must be here with your father. Perhaps we should say hello before we leave, Haruhi." He pushes back in his chair just a bit, as if to stand.

_Trying to get rid of me? I don't think so, Kyo. _Tamaki moves until he's standing just behind the brunet, placing his hands on Kyoya's shoulders, causing the brunet to jump just a little. "He's talking to parents right now. You know, Haruhi, this _is_ one of the best restaurants and one of the best hotels in the city. We've been here numerous times. Haven't we, Kyoya?" _A little double entendre can't hurt and I'm_ _not leaving until I know what your next stop is going to be._

"We've eaten here, that's true." The Shadow King's cold precision forestalls any planned misdirection.

Haruhi chimes, "The food _is_ amazing here, senpai. I'd forgotten that your family owns this hotel. The rooms must be fantastic and I'm sure the penthouse suite is extraordinary."

"I can see if it's available for viewing. I'm sure my father won't mind if it is." Haruhi's face lights up at the idea.

"Haruhi," Kyoya pipes up. "We must be mindful of time."

"Oh, that's right. We have tickets for the ballet at the National. I'm sure you guys have gone many times, but I've only been once. It was beautiful. I remember that."

"Ahh, the ballet," Tamaki begins in a grandiose tone, removing his hands from Kyoya and taking a seat with them as Kyoya seethes at the seemingly oblivious blond who crosses his legs, and begins gesturing dramatically as he warms to the subject.

"First established in the Italian courts of the Renaissance, but truly brought into its own in France as the corp de ballet under Catherine de Medici and expanded under King Louis XIV, who was an excellent dancer himself. In fact, did you know that his title as The Sun King came from a role he danced at the age of 14? But it did. From there, it grew to become a great art form adopted by many great countries - France, of course, but also Italy, Hungary, Denmark, Russia, even Argentina and the United States. But, at heart, it will always be French."

"Wow, sempai. How do you know so much about it?"

At the question, the blond's manner grows subdued, his eyes wistful. "My mother was a ballerina. I remember attending performances and watching her as a child. Then, of course, she became ill and had to retire early. She was so beautiful when she danced. Like an angel."

"Oh, so I guess she misses it. Do you go with her now?"

"Uh-" Tamaki grows silent. _Haruhi doesn't know I'm illegitimate. How could she?_ His expression grows pensive. Haruhi looks at Kyoya, who is calmer, watching his friend with concern.

"You know," Haruhi says. "It's rather nice to be sitting here with just the two of you. I don't think we've ever done this. It's usually everyone all together, so this is kind of special. How much time do we have before curtain?"

Kyoya glances at his watch. "We should be seated by 7:50, which leaves us thirty minutes." Precision is as precision does.

"Sounds...cultural," Tamaki says. _The Suoh family has season tickets at the National._

"And," Kyoya adds, "Parking can be difficult."

"Can't Hotta-san just drop us off before he parks the car?" she asks.

"Of course he can," Tamaki replies, somewhat mollified after speaking about his mother. "We do that all the time, don't we Kyoya? Whenever we go out together."

"There is also traffic to consider. Earlier this evening-"

"Traffic is fine now," Tamaki says, watching Kyoya open his mouth, then close it again, soughing out a breath through his nose. "And Hotta-san is an excellent driver. In fact," he says turning back to Haruhi and propping his chin with his fist, elbow on the table, apparently unperturbed by his violation of table etiquette. "He takes Kyoya and me for a drive every Friday and I never worry about a thing when he's at the wheel."

"Tamaki," Kyoya says so low that no one but the blond can hear and Haruhi, only if she's paying close attention, which she is.

_I know I'm playing with fire, but really Kyoya? Don't you think you owe me more than to be brushed off three times in the same day?_

"I didn't know that," Haruhi says. "But it makes sense: end of the week, best friends. Of course, you need to spend time together without school or family stuff getting in the way."

In an overly unconcerned manner, Kyoya explains_, _"Just a few beers to unwind and then home we go. It's nothing more than that." He signals their server for the bill.

"Really?" Tamaki says in a small voice, lower lip jutting a wee bit as he sits back in his chair, his eyes brightening just so. _Damn you, Kyoya. Why are you being such a prick?_

"Kyoya," Haruhi admonishes. "How can you say that? Making time for friends is important. You can't just blow them off like it's no big deal."

Tamaki soft intake of breath is masked by his hand, his face growing pink, then red and finally turning scarlet. Haruhi looks confused, Tamaki looks down and Kyoya's stony stare pierces through the candlelight glinting off his eyeglasses.

_Does she know? There's no way. But I know you, Kyoya. You'd like to pretend that the other night never happened, but it did. I know what you look like when..you know. _As he thinks the words, recalled images play perforce in his mind and, unawares, his hand on the table shifts towards the brunet. Kyoya blinks twice in rapid succession, looks down at the hand and away. _But then there's Haruhi. She looks so pretty tonight and she seems so happy. I can't possibly hurt her. And I won't hurt Kyoya even if he is being mean. Alright, then. I won't interfere, but I'm not going to make it easy for them, either._

In typical Suoh fashion, he brightens his expression and turns towards Haruhi who is focused on them both, eyes only moving from one to the other, carefully taking in every nuance of non-verbal communication that's been playing out before her eyes.

"Know what I think?" Tamaki says in cheery voice. "I think that we should do exactly what you suggested, Haruhi. For real. Your birthday is next weekend and I know- I know- You said no fuss but surely three friends can have dinner together, can't they?"

"That might not be the best course of action right now," Kyoya says, glancing at Haruhi's scrutinizing gaze before turning to the blond. "It may be that Haruhi has other plans for her birthday."

"Nope," Haruhi says blithely. "Not yet, anyway. I told you. My birthday is not a big deal." Her attitude turns hesitant. "And while having dinner with both of you sounds fun, I'm not so sure anymore."

"What do you mean?" Tamaki asks, dismayed that she isn't thrilled with his suggestion.

"Look," she says carefully. "I've seen how the twins fight and how Mori-sempai and Honey-sempai fight. But is this how you guys usually fight? 'Cause I've never seen you act like this around one another and I'm getting the feeling that this is something more than just a casual difference of opinion."

"Tamaki and I understand one another. Don't we, Tamaki?" The brunet drops his eyes as he signs the bill to be added to his family's account.

"Not always, but we've gotten better at it," Tamaki replies in a straight-forward manner, then waits until Kyoya and he are once more eye-to-eye. "Though," he adds growing serious, "I think I understand more than you're willing to admit, Kyoya." _I am so pushing it, but facts are facts. _

The Cool Host adjusts his glasses and earns his title. "I'm sure I don't know to what you are referring, but there isn't time to go into it right now." With even crisper diction he add, "Perhaps, another time." He stands, as does Tamaki.

"Wait a minute," Haruhi says, still seated, her face and tone of voice reflecting her unwillingness to leave things unsettled. They turn to her simultaneously.

"Shall we go?" Kyoya asks.

"On one condition," she says firmly, head deliberately turning to look from one young man to the other.

"Haruhi, listen-" Tamaki begins.

"No, you listen to me, the _two_ of you." She stands and presses her fists on her hips. She's in her this-is-Haruhi-speaking mode and they know better than to cut her short. "Nothing is more precious than family except friends and you've been friends - best of friends - for some time. It's obvious that something is wrong between you and I can't just stand by and let you remain angry with one another over - what, I don't know. But whatever it is, you better straighten things out. Promise me you will or I'm not moving until you do."

Violet eyes meet grey, emotion high between them. Not one of them is aware that the diners around them are now watching, as is Suoh Yuzuru standing at the bottom of the steps.

"Fine," says Kyoya.  
"Agreed," says Tamaki.

Kyoya begins to move past Tamaki, then stops. "We'll talk," he says in a quiet, level voice. Tamaki just nods, arms limp by his sides, head down. _Mommy and Daughter are both upset with Daddy._

Haruhi stands up and moves until she stops directly in front of the blond. She looks up into Tamaki's worried eyes. "Sempai," she says in a gentle voice that only he can hear. "I'm not angry with you."

"Really?"

"Really. I just hate it when people argue. You know you can talk to me about it. I won't take sides, but I'll listen."

"That might not be possible this time."

Haruhi's brow wrinkles as she scans his serious face. "Then remember why you're friends in the first place. That's usually a good place to start."

"I know," he says. "Enjoy the ballet," he adds with a forced smile. "Think of me."

He doesn't watch them leave, remaining in place, staring at the flame that flickers from within the crystal flower that rests on the table.

"Are you alright, son?" Yuzuru's voice is at his side.

Tamaki looks into his father's eyes, filled with concern and warmth. "I will be," he says. "Ready to go?"

"Yes."

As they head down the steps, Tamaki asks, "Father, would you want to go the ballet tonight?"

"I usually attend kabuki with your Grandmother, but I haven't been to the ballet in ages. I hadn't considered that you might like to go."

"I think it would be nice to do that, together. Besides, a gentleman should cultivate an appreciation for such things, don't you think?"

"Quite right, son. But if we're going to make an eight o'clock curtain, we need to leave right now."

Father and son take the elevator back to the lobby. As they make their way through the throng, Yuzuru quietly reaches up and ruffles the hair at the back of his son's head. It's an atypical move in touch-conscious Japan, but it's exactly what the hāfu boy needs, manners be damned.

Suoh Yuzuru may be full-blooded Japanese, but he's never been one to live his life by the book. He's paid a price; but the boy walking with him has brought him nothing but joy, so he's willing to step outside the box every once and awhile, when necessary, and when the Suoh matriarch isn't present. He doesn't know what's bothering Tamaki, but he has an inkling. He'll be ready to listen and accept whatever it may be, whenever his only child is ready to share. And tonight they will view the ballet together. He hadn't suggested it for fear of opening old wounds. But it's the least he can do for his beloved, Anne-Sophie.

The very least.

End - Chapter 20 - Best-Kept Secret

**A/N: Milestone chapter. It's quite true that "no one gets there alone" (so said Dana Scully from the X-Files and I agree - a cookie to anyone who can tell me which episode). Fanfiction is a good example of that. It's my pleasure to serve the muse for your entertainment.**

* * *

Best Kept Secret - Skillet [Tamaki-centric]

Shrouded in proof, you're the mystery.  
You're the truth that lives within the world we see.  
You're the hand that holds destiny  
And I can't pretend I don't know  
And I can't leave it alone (yeah, yeah).

You're the best kept secret in my generation.  
The best kept secret of all time.  
You're the best kept secret in my generation  
And I found you out.

You're the hope over the centuries.  
You're the cosmic force that rules the galaxies.  
You're the evidence that demands our belief  
And I can't live for myself  
I can't keep this all to myself (yeah, yeah).

You're the best kept secret in my generation.  
The best kept secret of all time.  
You're the best kept secret in my generation  
And I found you out.

Let it out. (4x) Yeah.

And I can't pretend I don't know  
And I can't leave it alone (yeah, yeah).

You're the best kept secret in my generation.  
The best kept secret of all time.  
You're the best kept secret in my generation  
And I found you out.


	21. Crawling

**Chapter 21 - Crawling**

Haruhi and Kyoya enter the elevator heading down to the Roi Grand's lobby and, as if from nowhere, Tachibana is beside them. _That is weird,_ Haruhi thinks. _I don't think I could ever get used to living in a bubble, though they say that if you experience something long enough, it becomes normal to you._

The limo is waiting. As they pull away, Haruhi looks backwards over Kyoya's shoulder to watch the receding marquis above the hotel. As she does so, what seems to be a familiar face catches her momentary attention as it flashes between the faces of those milling about the front of the building. As quickly as the image registers on her brain and as quickly as she responds to it, the face disappears. Her brow wrinkles.

_Dad?_

"Kyoya," she begins, turning back to her date who seems engrossed in thoughts of his own.

"Hmm?"

"Would you mind if I make one call?"

"Is everything alright?"

"I hope so." She pulls her phone from her wristlet and dials home.

"Haruhi?" Ryoji answers, anxiety barely disguised under edge. "Are you alright? Where are you? I'll come for you at once."

"I'm fine, Dad," she reassures. "Just seeing how _you're_ doing."

"Well, aren't you adorable? Checking on me? Whatever for?"

"You are home, aren't you?"

"Where else would I be?" _He sounds innocent enough._

"Hn. So then you won't mind going into my bedroom and telling me what's laying on top of my bed?"

"I know exactly what's there, my darling. The empty garment bags from House of Hitachiin, of course. Why?"

"Oh, no reason." _Of course, he'd know that. I'm a lousy detective. But how could he answer the phone without being there? Duh. Call forwarding? _

"Are you having a nice time? Is Kyoya behaving like a gentleman?" Ryoji asks.

"Dad-"

"I know, I know. Stop prying. I just can't help it."

"_We_ are fine. We had dinner at the Roi Grand Hotel and are heading to the National." Kyoya gestures for her to hand over the phone, which she does.

"Ryoji-san? It's Kyoya. Everything is fine. Haruhi will be home by eleven barring unforeseen circumstances."

"And just what is that supposed to mean, Kyoya? What unforeseen circumstances do you foresee? Hmmmmmm?"

"We did run into quite a bit of traffic earlier this evening though it seems clear now. The roads are getting icy and I don't want my driver to take unnecessary risks. If there's any delay, I will let you know. In the meanwhile, did you get the envelope I had delivered to your apartment in your name?"

Haruhi's face registers surprise, but Kyoya holds up his index finger that asks her to wait.

"An envelope? Tonight?"

"Yes. I had it sent by messenger to be hand-delivered."

"Uhhh - well, you see… I decided to take a walk so I'm not exactly at home right now. I'm visiting with friends. Tell Haruhi I'll be home later tonight and not to wait up, alright?"

"I understand completely, sir. Your daughter is safe with me."

"I doubt it, but I'm holding you to that, Ootori."

"As you wish." He gives the phone back to Haruhi.

"Dad? I'll see you later, okay? I'm hanging up now." She disconnects and sighs.

"Over-protective much?" Kyoya questions with an amused smile.

"Over-protective to the Nth degree. What did you mean about sending an envelope?"

"There's no such thing. It's just my way of learning if your father is actually at home. That is what you were trying to ascertain, isn't it? "

"Yes, but I don't think I have the necessary skills for police work. You, on the other hand…"

"Never in a million years. My father would like me to choose Law so I can look out for the interests of my brothers, my sister and their families."

"And what do _you_ want to do?"

"I don't object to studying the Law."

"Kyoya, I asked you what you would like, not what you'd settle for."

He considers her. "You know, there are only two people in the world who have ever asked me that specific question with heartfelt interest. You make the third."

"Let me guess one. Tamaki?"

"Yes, and my mother." _Of course._

"What have you told them?"

He pauses for a few moments, as if he's about to reveal some dastardly secret. Finally, he says, "Architecture."

"Really?" Her eyes widen and she smiles, genuinely delighted with his answer. _That's a surprise._

"I enjoy design and the potential to create something substantial that can last for decades, if not centuries." A subtle smile overtakes him as he shares his passion. "Have you ever really studied the Acropolis or the Parthenon? It isn't just the engineering that's genius, but the vision of design within the construct of human ability and available materials. There's genius in the work of Frank Lloyd Wright or I.M. Pei. Their legacy is monumental not just to function and design, but to civilization as a whole. Their vision influenced the way people live their lives on a daily basis. That's real power."

"I can see you're passionate about it. And it makes sense. Your intelligence, attention to detail, your precision with numbers and budgets despite Tamaki. Even our cosplay is carefully considered. But isn't Architecture artistic?"

"Are you suggesting that I'm not?"

"I guess I don't really know."

"Ask me about it again tomorrow."

"I will." She's even more curious than ever about the enigmatic young man who's captured her attention and is slowly winning her heart.

"And yet, in spite of my wishes, it's uncertain that I'll be allowed to pursue such a career."

"But why? Why wouldn't your father approve?"

"It's not a matter of approving or not approving. It's a matter of him deciding what he thinks is best for the Ootori family."

"Without considering your feelings about it?"

"Never has, never will."

"I can't imagine my dad telling me what to do with my life."

"Though he worries about it."

"Remember what I said about over-protective? I'm sure he's sprouted at least three gray hairs tonight alone."

"You do realize that had you not hidden your gender from the outset at Ouran that your father would, no doubt, be completely gray by now."

She chuckles. _Wait a minute._ "Do you think he's following us?"

"I suspect as much, but I doubt he'll show his face."

"He better not," she says firmly. Kyoya doesn't reply, but simply nods, grasping her hand within his and sitting back.

The trip from hotel to theater isn't long and they ride in comfortable silence, holding onto one another's warmth and leaning into one another's shoulders. Each is thinking about the people in their lives that care - sometimes too much - but care nonetheless.

_It must be the full moon. I can understand Dad being put off balance by my heading out with Kyoya, but even Tamaki was acting oddly. He's usually much more frenetic. You'd think it would be the opposite. Hmph.__ I suppose I shouldn't complain. Maybe he's growing up and learning to keep his emotions in check. But then why was Kyoya so irritated with him and so jumpy, too? It's takes a lot to rattle the Shadow King but he was, especially when Tamaki put his hands on him. He looked…guilty. He did say that Tamaki was being insensitive, but what about? Grades? A less than stellar review? No, not even a possibility._

She thinks back to their words:

…_He takes Kyoya and me for a drive every Friday -  
Just a few beers. Nothing more than that. -  
Tamaki and I understand one another. -  
I think I understand more than you're willing to admit, Kyoya…_

Her analytic mind sifts through the evidence, like a future case for the future attorney._ The issue is there, in that drive they take. Is it drinking or some other substance problem? _The thought troubles her. She's read enough about co-dependency to know that children of alcoholics, like herself, often re-create family dynamics in their own relationships. _Dad's been sober for the last six years and it just doesn't seem like Kyoya to let himself be out of control. _She shakes her head. _I'm not going to jump to conclusions or pry. I'll find out soon enough if we spend time together. We'll deal with it. _

The limo turns onto a broad boulevard and Haruhi spies the Opera Tower, then the visible portion of the theater complex. She leans forward involuntarily, looking out the front and side windshields, excitement banishing all other thoughts. The National Theater of Tokyo is a spectacular edifice of metal, stone and glass - so different from Ouran Academy's prissiness. And knowing now, as she does, of Kyoya's interest in architecture, she sees it as more than just a building, taking note of line and connection, functionality infused with beauty. _It really is art._

Hotta enters the queue of limos and taxis depositing theater-goers close to the main entrance. People from all walks of life are heading indoors to partake in one of several different performances scheduled for the evening. Opera or ballet, traditional Japanese dance or theater - all are housed under one, or several, roofs.

"You may want to leave your coat in the car, Haruhi. It's only a short walk indoors and the coat-check is impossibly inefficient here," Kyoya advises.

"Inefficient? That's an interesting choice of word and very Kyoya of you," she replies looking up at him with an arched brow.

"I suppose you're going to tell me that we should utilize the service since it's someone's job and we should support that."

"That's a perfectly good reason, though not the one I was going to suggest."

"Why then?"

"I simply like my new coat and want to wear it." She smiles like a child with a new toy she wants to show off.

"Ah. I see. Then…"

"But we are cutting things close and need to get to our seats." Maturity and seriousness settle in her expression with a knowing nod.

His expression doesn't change at her jibe though he asks, "Are you mocking me?"

"Just a little. C'mon, Kyoya. What can I do to get you to smile again?"

"Need you ask?"

Her pulse notches up at his veiled request and she bites her lower lip, knowing that she wants the same thing. She tilts her face up to receive his kiss without hesitation. It's simple and sweet and she wants to linger, but doesn't. When she pulls away, she sees a small smile grace his face.

"Better," she admits, "though I won't be able to employ this technique during club hours."

"Haruhi, if I could get a kiss from you every time Tamaki makes me crazy, my lips would never leave yours."

She chortles and finds that receiving compliments from him is something to which she could become accustomed, as well as his kisses. _But, Tamaki makes him crazy non-stop? _ "C'mon. He isn't that bad."

"You don't know him as I do. Like a dog with a bone is our friend, Tamaki. Tenacity is one of the things I admire about him, but it's also one of the things that makes him impossible."

"He can be a bit obsessive. I'll grant you that." _Though 'obsessive' may be too mild a term._

"Obsessive, thick-headed and overly emotional."

"But also…" She waits for the flip-side of Kyoya's assessment.

"Loyal, imaginative and hard-working. I don't deny him his qualities, just his excessive nature when exhibiting them."

"In short, he's a person with good and not-so-good qualities, like the rest of the human race."

"I'm not sure if the Ootori family would include itself in that statement."

"You can't be serious."

"I didn't say I agreed with such assessment, but it's the one my father chooses to foist on his children. 'Perfection is not the exception,' is one of his favorite phrases."

His demeanor has darkened again, so she squeezes his hand and looks into his eyes. "Let's not think about anyone else right now."

He returns her gaze and she senses at such close proximity the deep intelligence that makes him such a stunning student, along with keen perception that seems to be searching for something within her. Haruhi remains still under his intense and steady gaze. _What are you looking for?_

Their silent communication is interrupted by the door being opened by Tachibana. Kyoya assists her as they disembark and Haruhi is very glad she made them wear their coats. The night has turned gelid and they both pull their collars high around their necks. She thinks about putting on her gloves but doesn't want to lose the touch of Kyoya's hand entwined with hers. Looking up, she sees the moon has risen higher into the black winter sky, a now much smaller silver disc casting pale light in opposition to the warmth of the glow emanating from the modern structure before them.

Passing through the main entrance, she's exhilarated by the lights and sounds of expectancy; the movement of people that spills through the narrow openings, wide foyers and staircases like leaves flowing in a river of culture she's only experienced a few times and only through school trips during the day surrounded by mainly bored but diligent classmates. _This. This is different; a throng who appreciates and understands beauty and art in various forms. I like simple things, but I want to experience all of Life. It's part of being an educated person and getting along with different types of people. I know Dad would approve._

Now, she waits at the top and to the side a wide shallow staircase observing people below. Kyoya said he'd meet her here after checking their coats, but he hasn't yet returned. She scans the crowd and catches the eye of a handsome young Westerner, a little older than herself. He flashes her a bright smile. She smiles back with a subtle nod of her head to be friendly, then past him. The crowd is mostly older, well-dressed folk. The jewelry that sparkles under the spotlights glitters and the low roar of conversation is intermittently sprinkled with laughter.

"Waiting for someone?" a mellow voice with a tinge of a British accent asks beside her, in English. She pivots with a start. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

"I apologize, as well, for being unaware of you." It's the stranger who smiled at her. At closer range, he's still cute with short brown hair and green eyes. "Do I know you?" she inquires, responding in English to be courteous.

"I'm James Gauge and I attend Namikana High School."

"Hello. I'm Haruhi Fujioka," she replies in the western-style of saying her given name first. "Are you new in Japan?"

"Been here about eight months now. My family moves around a bit 'cause of m'dad's work. Mind if I ask what school you attend?"

"Ouran Academy."

"Posh digs over there, eh?" He sounds impressed.

"I guess."

"Aren't you sure?"

"Excuse me?"

"Forget it. Bad joke. Are you here by yourself?"

"Actually, no. I'm just waiting for a friend."

"Lucky friend or is it more than that?" _He's flirting with me. Does he think I'm a guy or a girl? Does it matter? He's flirting with me! _She finds herself flattered, if relatively uninterested.

"Not exactly."

"Then the position is available?"

"Listen," she says, charmed but needing to set the record straight. "You seem nice enough but I don't know you and…"

"Everything alright?" Kyoya's voice is at her side, his hand reaching around her to hold her by the waist. His manner is calm, but his eyes threaten the encroaching male.

"Just chatting with your mate," the stranger informs in an off-handed manner.

"Then your conversation is over," Kyoya says in English, his voice level while taking a step towards the stranger.

"Hey," the stranger resists, pushing the brunet back with two fingers pressed to his chest. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Protecting my interest," comes the reply. "I suggest you leave."

"No need to get huffy. Who are you? Her father?"

On a sigh, Kyoya replies, "I'm afraid that position has already been filled - twice." Haruhi groans inwardly._ Sarcasm. He's definitely pissed and this needs to stop now._

"Come again?"

"Sempai," Haruhi interrupts, putting herself between Kyoya and the other young man, facing Kyoya who continues to glower until a sudden look of recognition crosses his face.

"I know you," he says.

The young man is taken aback by Kyoya's sudden shift of focus. "Yeah?"

"You were at the Mitsubishi summer soiree last. Your father is an executive with them."

"Used to be."

"I see. Excessed or terminated?"

The stranger chuffs. "You're a smug bastard. Probably have somebody tie your shoes for you every morning, don't you?"

"I assure you, I have every reason to be smug as a legitimate son of the Ootori family.

"I know that name. You have a couple of older brothers, don't you?"

Haruhi sees the fire flash behind Kyoya's lenses. "Sempai." Her voice is firm, a vague warning.

"Now, me?" the once-cute stranger continues, "I may not be inheriting Japan, but at least I'm the first-born son."

Haruhi places her hand on Kyoya's arm. "Kyoya, please."

"It's alright, Haruhi. I think the gentleman understands that his presence is unwanted. Don't you?"

_Understands what? That you're both acting like cavemen idiots? _Haruhi sees the stranger's gaze pass over Kyoya's shoulder, eyes opening a bit more before settling into a look of irritation as he turns and walks away. The warning lights flicker on and off. She breathes a sigh of relief as they head into the theater which is when Haruhi spies Tachibana standing at a discreet distance. _That's why things didn't escalate. It may be precautionary, but it seems heavy-handed._

As they walk down a descending ramp that channels off from the main theater, Kyoya says, "I'm sorry you had to be subjected to that." Haruhi stops and tugs at Kyoya's arm, pulling him to one side of the wide aisle to allow others to pass them by. Her eyes flash with anger. "What's the matter?" he inquires with genuine concern.

Her voice is low but she speaks with emphasis. "First of all, I'm capable of handling myself in a crowded public space. This isn't Okinawa. And second of all, you were rude to flaunt your position the way you did." Kyoya is silent. "Moreover," she continues, "Need I remind you that I'm not an asset or an interest. I'm a person." Kyoya looks away, his shoulders set. Her voice eases. "I'm really happy that we're spending time together, Kyoya. I've wanted to get to know you better, but if we're going to continue this friendship, my feelings count."

"You seem to misunderstand my intentions, Haruhi."

"How do you mean?"

He looks back at her and pushes at his glasses. "We are already friends. What I'm interested in is something altogether different with you." His gaze is direct, his interest clear. She gets his meaning and she can't say that she isn't interested in the same, but there are clearly things they need to work out if they're going to become closer in any way. The lights flicker off and on several more times.

"Maybe we should get to our seats," she says uncertain of what to say or what else to do.

"Of course." Kyoya's hand rests at the small of her back, bold in its intimacy, focusing Haruhi's attention as he guides her through a simple arch leading to a two-seat "box" that sits separately from the other seats, beneath the overhang of the level above and to the far right of the stage two levels down. "Would you care to sit on the inside or on the aisle?"

"Aisle, if you don't mind."

"Not in the least."

"Isn't Tachibana joining us?"

"He has a seat, but he won't be using it." Haruhi looks behind them, but the man in the black suit has disappeared again. _I don't get how it works, but it's a part of Kyoya's life so I suppose I'll have to adjust._ _I still don't understand these rich people._ She sits down in the carved wood and cushioned chair, resting her hands in her lap.

"Haruhi," Kyoya says close to her ear as the lights begin to dim. She turns her head and looks at him. "I can't say I blame the fellow for being interested, but I'll keep your preferences in mind."

"It's all I ask," she replies. "And I prefer to focus on the present which, right now, looks promising." She turns over one hand so that it lay palm up near his knee. He takes it and they clasp hands on his thigh. She drops her head and under cover of a darkened theater, smiles to herself fairly certain that he's doing the same.

Curtain's up.

End - Chapter 21 - Crawling

* * *

Crawling - Green River Ordinance [Kyoya-centric]

I'm crawling in your heart.

Love in moderation  
Is all you ever gave, but look inside  
'Cause the sting of the sensation,  
It flickers like a drug there, in your eyes.

And you feel it, but you fight it.  
The more you pull the rope, it tightens.  
And you follow the moments  
To the place we've built to find...  
I'm crawling in your heart (2x).

You envy all the others.  
You're thumbing through the words  
Just to feel the heart.  
And will you ever see it? Oh.  
Well, it's me here by your side.

Can you feel it? But you fight it.  
The more you pull, the load gets lighter.  
And you follow my words, dear,  
To the place we've built to find...  
I'm crawling in your heart (2x).

Bridge (2x)  
Crawling in your heart …  
(We got miles and miles to go.  
You and me, a million miles to go.)

When you feel it, don't fight it.  
We can sail away tonight.  
And you follow the flashes  
Of the love we've built to find...

Bridge (4x)  
Crawling in your heart …  
(We got miles and miles to go.  
You and me, a million miles to go.)

I'm crawling in your heart.


	22. Upside Down

**Chapter 22 - Upside Down**

The lights dim and Haruhi feels and hears the hush that comes over the crowd. Her program informs that there will be two ballets performed, both choreographed by George Balanchine. The first is "Jewels," a trio of dances set to the music of Fauré, Stravinsky and Tchaikovsky. The second is "Bugaku" with music by Toshiro Mayuzumi.

"I didn't realize there's a live orchestra," she whispers with excitement to Kyoya at her right.

"Normally, except for full rehearsals which are often attended by students."

_There's just so much I don't know about these things. And I want to learn. I need to learn if I'm going to work as a professional one day. So, Haruhi, pay attention._

The first ballet enchants her. She hasn't listened to much classical music except for well-known pieces, but Tamaki has been giving her lists of things to check out online. Some she enjoys, others less so. The dances for "Jewels" are not literal, though the bedazzled costumes reflect Emerald, then Ruby and finally Diamond dancers. As she watches, she recalls Tamaki's words about his mother. _He's keeping something from me about her. She's ill. I wonder how seriously and how he keeps smiling in spite of it. Kyoya must know. Maybe that's why he's so lenient with him when it comes to Club matters. Or generally. They are pretty close. Seems like I don't know much about any of the Hosts, really. Even after nine months. And about Kyoya? Least of all.  
_

She allows her gaze to shift from the dancers onstage to his profile. _His features aren't stunning like Tamaki's, though no one would argue that Kyoya isn't good-looking. He's classically handsome. If I were like our guests, a pretty face and fancy manners would be enough, but he's so much more than that. _

___So what is it about him that's gotten under my skin? _Is it the fact that he kissed me? Am I so easily swayed by such things? No. It wouldn't have felt so wonderful unless he meant something to me. The girls have told me that you know it's The One by his kiss. I don't know if you're The One, Kyoya, but I do know that I used to crush on all of the hosts, but now? The faces of the Hosts cross her mind. They're all dear to her, but only as cherished friends. She hasn't thought of a single one as anything other than since Kyoya staked his claim in reality. _Not even for a moment. He's everything I never knew I wanted: self-assured, calm in a crisis, smart, driven to succeed... _She sighs._ Seductive. Just when did you cast your spell over me? _

The last song ends and everyone applauds as the principal dancers come through the center of the closed curtain to take their solo bows and retreat. House lights come up and the young man in her thoughts turns to her, holding her gaze for a moment or two, causing her heart to beat a little faster. "Did you enjoy it?" he says with a quizzical smile.

"Very much so."

"Good. Intermission is fifteen minutes. Why don't we head to the main lobby? That's a bona fide show in and of itself."

"Is it?" she replies, tickled by his words and curious as to what he means.

Before answering, he guides her into the corridor. She entwines her arm in his and he tugs her nearer. As they walk together, he says, "For most people, the entertainment only occurs on stage. For the wealthy and influential, the social milieu is as interesting as the proffered event. One never knows who one might meet and to what advantage."

"Must there always be an advantage or social gain?" she chides.

"Of course. It may be small or large, but opportunity lies around every corner in life, but only those prepared to seize the day benefit from it. And it isn't just my opinion. Everyone at Ouran understands this. Everyone at Host Club. Our families, our classmates, their families, acquaintances and business associates create a fabric that is tightly woven to ensure it doesn't tear apart."

"And we couldn't have that now, could we?" She laces her question with mild sarcasm.

"I recognize that it's elitist, but the Japanese social class system has secured our place as a world leader in multiple fields."

"Done so on the backs of the so-called lower classes," she amends. _Even on a date, Kyoya-sempai is Kyoya-sempai._ He considers her words calmly though a slight inclination of his head tells her he doesn't disagree with her assessment, even if he can't openly agree with it. _Hmm. Never seen him admit to anything like that. There may be hope for you yet, Ootori Kyoya._

As they move down the second staircase, she sees him slip into observation mode. She's seen the same look on his face during Club hours as he ensures that every guest is paid due attention and small problems that arise stay that way. They continue until they're standing a third of the way into the main concourse, near a bank of windows that runs the length of the lobby. Beyond, overlooking the runnel below, light spills onto the dark water in ripples of light and color, creating yet another kinetic work of art.

"So," she says to Kyoya, determined to understand something of his world. "How's the side show tonight?"

He arches a brow at her terminology as he pushes at his glasses and faces her. "A fair mix for a Sunday evening though Saturdays tend to bring out the heavy-hitters: socialites with money looking for a worthy cause and perhaps more from a handsome fund-raiser, debutantes just looking to see and be seen per their conniving mothers' advice, social-climbers of all sorts and those who simply enjoy the arts - natives and tourists alike."

She's taken aback at his analysis. "I never realized these events were so political."

"But they are and keeping one's wits about oneself is a requirement or one could easily find oneself blackmailed, conned or otherwise engaged in a way one doesn't choose for oneself."

"I don't think I like that. It sounds cutthroat."

"Whatever made you think that being one of the elite was easy? Wealth is and always has been a double-edged sword, Haruhi. It provides a life of physical ease, enormous influence and great opportunity but as with all things, there's a price to be paid. And still there are many who would use any means necessary to access that world of privilege." She seems a tad confused, so he continues. "That young man who approached you earlier, he was one such person; thinking _you_ were rich and available."

She scoffs with a shake of her head, "No way."

He places his hand over hers on his arm and leans his face towards hers. "Surely you've learned something about how the male mind operates by this time. You're a desirable young woman, Haruhi, androgynously dressed or no. I must admit that while I like the ambiguity, I wouldn't mind seeing you in something better suited to your gender's unique charms."

Haruhi thinks about the article of clothing beneath her jacket, but to take it off now would seem rather crass. _But I haven't given up on it, yet. _

An endless stream of people enter the lobby. _I hope we don't run into that guy from before. _During the performance, she'd recounted the exchange in her mind and come to a realization_. It was my fault there was an issue at all._

"Kyoya?" she begins on a somewhat serious note, looking up at him sideways, hoping that Tamaki's words about it being a non-threatening approach is true.

"Haruhi?" he says in like fashion looking down at her, eliciting a brief smile.

"I want to apologize for what happened earlier, with that young man. He only approached me because I encouraged him."

"I see." He says it without inflection of any sort.

"I wasn't thinking and I slipped right into Host mode, asking him questions and being overly friendly and then-"

"Then?"

"When he asked if I was here with a friend or someone more than that, I said 'not exactly.' A subtle flicker of disappointment in his visage tugs at her heartstrings. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to diminish you in any way."

"And yet you did. Perhaps pursuing a steady relationship is not in the cards for us. If so-"

"I'm very interested in _you_." She's both surprised and glad to be so forthcoming about such a personal sentiment, but she doesn't want him second-guessing her. Not any more.

Without a trace of sentimentality, he replies, "There's no need to explain. I'm quite patient when it comes to getting what I want. And I'm well aware that you are a person, Haruhi - a person that I like very much and want to know better."

Kyoya's phone rings and he apologizes before answering. After only a few words, he turns to Haruhi. "I have to take this. Would you please excuse me?" She nods her assent and he leaves her side. She misses his warmth at once and wants him back with her as soon as possible. It's not just an emotion, but a physical sensation of need, unexpected in its punch.

_I've never felt this way before. And it's about Kyoya, the one Host who scared me at first, the one who I thought didn't think of me as anything other than a common debtor. I know better now, but even so… _She thinks back on their kisses in the limo, memory reigniting a tingle on her lips and a subtle ache in the middle of her chest.

A woman's laughter sounds beside her and in her half-reverie, Haruhi turns towards the sound but fails to see what's coming. The wine that spills on her chest is white, fragrant and all over her jacket. She gasps at the suddenness of it. _My jacket!_

"Oh dear. I'm terribly sorry," a woman with a now empty cup in hand says, bowing several times and looking askance at the result of her clumsiness. She's older, elegantly dressed and horrified at what's happened.

"I'm fine, really," is Haruhi's response though her open hands, palms facing upwards on either side of her, express her dismay as she watches the liquid trickling across the fine quilting and soaking into the soft leather.

The woman gestures to someone outside of Haruhi's sight line and a uniformed employee appears with a white linen napkin handed to Haruhi who daubs at the wet front of the haute couture garment.

"No, it's not fine at all," the matron says. "I've spilled my entire beverage on you and it's such a beautiful jacket. I must make amends. Please, allow me to have it cleaned properly and returned to you at my expense."

Haruhi turns up a palm saying, "Please, no. It's fine. Thank you for offering." She hands the napkin back to the attendant, having done as much as she can to mitigate the damage.

"I won't take no for an answer. Might you have a shirt beneath?"

"Umm, yes, but-"

"Fine. Take the jacket off right now."

"But-"

"Young man, I am Akiyama Madoka, matriarch of the Akiyama family and I insist. You wouldn't want to defy the will of the Akiyama matriarch, now would you?"

"I'm Fujioka Haruhi and it's a pleasure to meet you." She isn't sure what being the Akiyama matriarch means, but the woman is adamant and she doesn't wish to offend.

"Come, come," Madoka says. "What's the hesitation? You'll give me an address and you'll have it back by tomorrow or a new jacket to replace it, if need be." She flutters a hand in front of Haruhi. "Come on."

Despite the rapid pace at which all this is occurring, thoughts race at an equal pace through Haruhi's mind: _I really like this jacket. Is this providence in action? I don't want to be rude. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect opportunity. She's definitely going to insist. I can't wait to see Kyoya's reaction. Here goes nothing. _Haruhi unzips the jacket, pausing for only a moment, then lets the jacket slip from her shoulders. The matron's eyes widen.

"Oh! Oh my goodness. I am terribly sorry. I had no idea you were…a young woman, my dear. And I called you a young man." The matron bows several times once again. "I am terribly, terribly sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Haruhi replies more amused than anything else, the cool air on her now exposed shoulders and back giving her goosebumps. She holds the jacket by the collar at her side. She isn't under-dressed compared to some of the evening gowns she sees around her, yet remains oblivious to the way several theater-goers' eyes have registered her immediately altered appearance, particularly those of the males around her.

The bustier fits snugly against her torso, accentuating her narrow waist and the flare of her hips where it curves outward to a tightly ruffled edge. The deep blue brocade is adorned with tiny cerise roses, some part of the fabric, others three-dimensional satin; all of which repeat amongst leafy vines embellished by emerald bugle beading that traces the stems.

It's as if Haruhi is the trellis upon which they bloom, the vinework cleverly working its way around the bust line to suggest that her breasts are also blossoms, covered as they are by heavily pleated cerise chiffon that follows the natural contours of her modest bosom, twisting at the center to define her décolletage. The reverse runs straight across her mid-back with deep blue ribbons interlacing themselves from the bottom hem to the top where they join in a loose bow.

Haruhi becomes aware of the way sound around her has diminished and she catches her reflection in the glass windows several feet beyond. Her gender secret is a thing of the past to anyone present and the most-definitely female image that she spies is once again what the hosts would call "hot," just as they did a few days ago. _Has it only been days? So why is it suddenly okay to look this way? _But she knows.

When she looks back at the woman, she shrugs. "So I'm a girl. Disappointed?" she asks, mocking herself.

A familiar voice assails her ears from slightly behind her. "On the contrary. Is that Hitachiin you're wearing?"

Turning in place, her pulse racing, she sees Kyoya regarding her quietly, a subtle smile playing on his lips. She isn't one to blush but seeing herself as "a desirable young woman," she's aware of the heightened interest in his eyes that seems to exclude everyone else in the room. She a little short of breath beneath the bone stays of the bustier as she turns to face him fully, allowing the garment to have full effect. _This is supposed to be a punishment, right? Haruhi, you moron. Whatever made you think __that__?_

He approaches, his focus never wavering from her eyes. _Cool indeed_. "I'm glad you approve. You can thank Kaoru. Hikaru wanted me to wear a shirt and tie."

He shakes his head slowly as he nears, saying, "I have seriously and undeservedly underestimated Kaoru and will duly apologize tomorrow."

The matron who instigated the unveiling watches with interest. "I'm not sure what's going on, Fujioka-san, but it seems your young man likes this look a little better than the other."

"You are correct, madam," Kyoya states with a respectful bow to her. "Forgive me, but you seem familiar. Perhaps our families' paths have crossed."

"Indeed they have. You're one of the Ootori boys, aren't you?"

"Your perception is keen. I am the third son, Ootori Kyoya."

"Ah, yes. I knew I recognized you. My, but you've grown tall since last I saw you. It was over a year ago when your father hosted a gala announcing the acquisition by the Ootori Group of my nephew's MRI manufacturing company. My family name is Akiyama."

"A distinguished family in its own right," Kyoya says graciously. "Perhaps you could enlighten me as to how you got Fujioka-san to reveal herself and perhaps Fujioka-san will enlighten me as to why she's kept such a delightful garment under wraps."

The matron steps closer to Kyoya, unable to resist slipping her arm around his to keep him beside her as she explains with a knowing smile, "Well, I'm either to blame or to thank, it seems. But seriously, I was holding my wine glass much too casually and this sweet young woman was the recipient of my faux pas." At that, she extends her hand to Haruhi, who takes it, allowing herself to be drawn closer.

The woman's light brown eyes twinkle as she looks at Haruhi. "My dear, I'm not sure why you're hiding your femininity when you are so lovely, especially while in the company of such a dashing young man from such a prestigious family."

Haruhi answers, "We go to school together," uncertain why that piece of information seems relevant to herself, even as she says it with a quick glance at Kyoya. It betrays her nervousness, which he picks up on with amusement, his smile broadening. _So much for comeuppance._

"Excellent," Madoka replies. "I wouldn't let him out of my sight if I were you." She turns once more to Kyoya and begins to speak about their families doing future business together. As they do, Haruhi's attention drifts.

In the heavy glass beyond them, she espies Kyoya's reflection, which is doing its best to maintain focus on the conversation with the woman while sneaking covert glances her way. She smiles to herself and then, in that strange quirk of mind that unexplainably jolts one into seeing things in a fresh way, is made re-aware of how Kyoya presents to the world at-large and why his clients sigh, despite his detached manner. She finds herself doing the same, only more so knowing she has more than just his attention at her disposal. The idea makes her twitch.

The intermission lights blink on and off signaling their need to return to the audience space. "My apologies once more," Madoka says to Haruhi, removing the gold pashmina she has tossed over one shoulder, exposing a modest neckline on the designer-cut black dress she wears. "Please take this in exchange for your jacket, my dear. I wouldn't want you to catch cold, though," she adds with a wink at Kyoya, "I don't think young Ootori will allow that to happen."

"Rest assured, dear lady, Fujioka-san will want for nothing," comes the smooth response. Push.

The matron raises an eyebrow. "So, that's how it is, eh? How wonderful."

She hands the stole to Kyoya, who adds, "You may return the jacket to the Ootori estate at your convenience," as he takes the jacket from Haruhi and passes it to Madoka.

"I certainly will. By the way, how is your mother doing? The last time I saw her she seemed well, but then I lost track of her and she disappeared from the Social Register."

"Yes. Well. She's doing much better now. Thank you for inquiring after her." He turns to Haruhi. "We need to return to our seats." They bid good evening to the friendly-but-nosy Akiyama matriarch and Kyoya ushers them away with some determination.

Haaruhi senses his uneasiness. _It's about his mom, again._

As the couple leaves the lobby, Akiyama Madoka watches, thinking they make a good match. She wonders about the girl, unfamiliar with her name; an anomaly since she knows everyone who is anyone in Tokyo. Perhaps she's from another city. She must be because she looked genuinely unaware of the Ootori family's situation or perhaps she was just being polite. After all, the scandal occurred nearly a year ago. Poor Kazu-san, gone into seclusion after Tokyo gossip columnists broke the news that Ootori Yoshio was caught in yet another indiscreet affair, this time with the wife of a foreign diplomat. Such drama.

End - Chapter 22 - Upside Down

**_A/N: Playlist at You Tube. Just insert the following after the main address in the addy bar:_** **/playlist?list=PLpvqHQH1_rc28CxCYDvbvo4pYbvU8s0vm&feature=mh_lolz**

* * *

Upside Down by Tori Kelly [Haruhi-centric]

You have flipped my view.  
Yeah, I'm not used to these changes.  
All these brand new feelings I can't explain,  
But somehow I like it.

And if I find out  
That you feel the same way  
As I do, I will love you  
As soon as I can stand up straight. Ohh.

CHORUS:  
You got me walking sideways,  
Spinning all around,  
Dizzy because you flip my world  
Upside down. Upside down.

I've been so confused.  
I wouldn't normally fall for someone quite like you.  
I'm tripping over my own thoughts,  
But, Baby, I really like you a lot. Ahh.

I wonder if you feel the same.  
If you feel the same way,  
I wouldn't know just what to do  
'Cause I can't even stand up straight.

CHORUS

BRIDGE (2x):  
Can somebody tell me why I feel this way?  
24/7 you're always on my brain.  
I can't really put my finger on it, but  
You got me so twisted.  
I've had crushes before, but it's not the same.  
Something different about you, I can't explain.  
Baby, you're making me insane.  
You got me so twisted.

Ohh. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.  
Baby, you got me twisted.  
You flip my whole world. Yeah.

CHORUS (2x)


	23. Drop in the Ocean

**Chapter 23 - Drop in the Ocean **

Kyoya takes Haruhi's hand in his and they mount the first staircase. At the landing, he pulls her to one side and drapes the gold pashmina edged with darker gold fringe around her shoulders, quietly saying, "You truly look spectacular."

Pleased and feeling bolder than ever, she arranges the shawl on her shoulders but drapes the sides beneath her arms, leaving the front of the bustier visible, along with what modest cleavage she possesses. _What is it that Chiyo once said to me? If you've got it, flaunt it? Well, it's not my usual style, but there's a first time for everything. _

They mount the second staircase and reach their seats just as the lights begin to dim. Haruhi seeks Kyoya's hand, cool compared to her own, which is always warm. He gently gives it a squeeze before relinquishing. Haruhi leans towards him and asks sotto voce, "Do you know what this ballet is about?"

He leans in, as well. "I haven't seen it before, but I do know that it tells a story." The curtain slowly rises and as it does, he murmurs in her ear, "It's supposedly…erotic."

She takes in a breath, exhaling on a soft, "Oh." His voice is velvet, his breath warm on her ear, inciting a tingle that runs from her face to her toes, settling between her legs without effort. Below them, the stage shows a turquoise field edged in red. From the pit, violins shimmer in atonal cadences that irk and awaken the senses much like the ancient court music she's heard in her Traditional Music class. From the wings come six maidens dressed in pink, bell-like tutus, the skirts resembling nothing so much as flower petals. They dance fluidly and one maiden emerges as the principal ballerina. The gold-and-white samurai follow, strutting with athleticism to impress the ladies; the bees come for the waiting nectar.

Both principals take center stage. Their movements are angular, yet sinuous. Haruhi is enchanted with the way their bodies move in space and time as living art, their ritualistic dance suggesting a wedding. The ballerina bride is doll-like, but with core strength that belies fragility. Her groom's physique manifests tensile control as he supports difficult positions and executes his own unique movements. _It's beautiful._

The happy couple leaves the stage and several pairs dance in celebration. When the bridal party returns, all are costumed in varied shades of white: snowy tights with alabaster form-hugging leotards covered by diaphanous robes that billow and swirl as they move. The bride's attendants draw her aside and, while they artfully flutter a panel of milky silk in front of her, she sheds the robe leaving her in only the translucent leotard overlaid by a fabric bikini covered in intricate flowers and crystals. She rejoins her partner who wears tights and a snug tank that only accentuates his form. The wedding night is upon them and their nudity is assumed_._

The pair begins their intimate pas de deux, which is truly suggestive while never being profane. Haruhi is mesmerized. And though both dancers are upright when the ballerina extends her leg along the body of her partner, her toes at his shoulder, their bodies juxtaposed as a vertical expression of a horizontal desire, the message is obvious. _It's sex. It's artistic, but it's formalized sex._ She unwittingly shifts forward in her seat, much like the rest of the rapt audience. The sensuality of man and woman expressing carnality in symbolic form puts her in touch with her own body, stirring her blood. _Whoever thought ballet was dull has never seen this._

"What are you thinking about?" Kyoya suddenly whispers in her left ear and she twitches.

"N-nothing," she lies, though she leans her head towards his warmth without thinking. He responds by nuzzling his nose against the sensitive shell so that her eyeslids droop and her breath grows more shallow. _That feels nice._ She's surprised at her willingness to have him continue despite their relatively open location, but she's unwilling to move.

Kyoya's arm slips between the back of her chair and her body, hand coming to rest along her waist as he shifts closer. Haruhi remembers what her literature teacher said about the theater being a place of social interplay. _Interplay? That's an interesting word to use. _Her lidded gaze remains on the figures who continue their provocative pas de deux as they carry out their own.

She feels Kyoya's hand slip beneath the pashmina to slowly walk its way from the hem of the bustier up her back until his fingers are toying with the ribbons at the top and ghosting over her bare back. She softly inhales and exhales as a shiver plays across her flesh. The wrap slips from her left shoulder, exposing it. She doesn't move to replace it and a few moments later, Kyoya's lips softly brush her shoulder as she closes her eyes completely and remembers to breathe. Her entire body has come alive as if a switch has been flicked ON, her emotions stirred by the dancers' movements coupled with the tactile sensations spiraling through her. Genuine desire saturates her senses for the first time, its pure heat unlike anything she's ever felt before.

In a space filled with hundreds of people, she feels alone with Kyoya. The sensations in her body flow where they will and she recognizes them for what they are, welcoming her newfound state of being as good and right. And then, practicality and propriety worm their way into her thoughts. _Get a grip, Haruhi. You're not thinking straight. Nope. I'm not thinking at all. What can happen? We're in public. It's not what happens in public that you should worry about. It's what happens when you're alone with him again. I can't pretend I don't feel what I feel, but we've only just started going together. I can't just give in. There are consequences to consider. And so much else. Oh kami. This is confusing and frustrating and… and… I want more. I want him, but I have to be smart about this._

She manages to take in as deep a breath as the bustier will allow, centering her emotions and reluctantly pulling the shawl back up around her shoulder with a subtle tremble in her hand, causing Kyoya to sit back. "I'm sorry," he says softly and removes his hand from beneath the shawl, resting his forearm on the low-set arm rest between them. She notices the minute tremor in his fingers that mirrors her own and hears him sough a breath with a slight hum as he regains composure. She leans her head against his shoulder, taking comfort from its solidity and presence. The pas de deux is over. The company re-emerges and everyone dances the finale.

The piece ends and the applause begins. Haruhi's mind is fully open, awareness as sharp as its ever been. _I'll remember this forever._ The audience is standing in ovation and they join in. As the cheers continue through the curtain calls, Kyoya's right hand drops between them. She notices and follows suit with her left. His fingers splay and she lightly weaves her own with his. He responds by pressing the length of his palm against hers, webbing joined so that she feels his heartbeat pulsing against her hand, his excitement matching hers. It's all so new and different and heady; and she's lost, lost.

Her eyes leave the stage to turn to Kyoya whose eyes are already on her. Staring into those eyes the color of the sky just before a storm, she feels her body moving closer to him, physically, as her emotions pull him deeper into her heart. _How can this happen so quickly? I want your arms around me. I want to kiss you. _She drops her head, unsure of what to do, and feels him press a fervent kiss on her forehead. _Has he read me so easily?  
_

"Ready to go?" he asks, his breathing slightly off.

"Good idea," she replies, knowing she shouldn't be rushing headlong into being alone with him but unable to refrain. Or unwilling.

"We do have to wait until the crowd thins a bit. Tachibana will let us know." He reaches out to tuck a stray tuft of hair behind her ear, his fingers skimming down her neck and over her shoulder, where they rest, the new warmth of his hand easily reaching her skin through the soft fabric that separates them. It's a tender and unlikely move for the Shadow King, making it special to her. "Politicos and special guests are escorted privately at the beginning of curtain calls," he continues. "The lesser elite wait until the end."

"The Ootori family is considered 'lesser?' That's a surprise."

"I know the name is influential, but there are those who sit even above our heads - well, mine at least."

Haruhi turns to watch the slowly emptying theater, needing a moment to simply be. Kyoya's free arm wraps around her from behind, holding her against him. The feeling of being enfolded is luscious and warm, and she savors the closeness that's developing with a soft smile he doesn't see. She scans the orchestra, then lifts her eyes to the first mezzanine. Those who sat front row center are still hemmed in by others waiting to depart. As they do, Haruhi's mind wanders into playing her usual pass-the-time game, Cast of Characters, in which she selects a random stranger and makes up a story in her head about them.

_Who to pick? There's a cute elderly couple…a female foreigner with a young girl, probably her daughter…a handsome middle-aged man, a teen who looks familiar… Wait. A teen who looks familiar?_

"Tamaki-sempai?"

The arm around her stiffens. "Where?" he asks, his tone of voice suddenly somber with an edge of irritation.

"First mezzanine. Is that Chairman Suou he's with?"

"Yes," Kyoya fairly growls. "I swear I'll kill him."

"Kyoya, don't be angry. Maybe it's coincidence."

"No, this is exactly what I said to you at dinner. Tamaki has a blind spot when it comes to how his actions affect others. I'm sure he decided to come here after he found out that we were coming here."

"So? I mean, I know he's a little crazy and can't help himself when he gets an idea in his head, but really…Kyoya. What does it matter?"

Kyoya's phone vibrates once again. "What is it?" he says sternly into the speaker. "What? Where?" He heaves a breath. "Very well. Keep them there. We'll be right out." He disconnects and collects himself, his warm affect gone frigid in a matter of seconds, worrying Haruhi a bit. _I've seen him like this before, but the change was so swift, it worries me._

"Let's go," Kyoya says to her, tersely. "Tachibana is waiting for us in the lobby with a woman who claims _she's_ your father."

Haruhi's spirits sink and she groans. "Oh, no. Dad?" Kyoya nods. _He just never learns. _

The two adolescents make their way through the corridor and down the stairs. As they enter the space where they met with Akiyama, Haruhi sees Tachibana to their right, standing beside one of the long upholstered benches situated against the wall of the theater. Sitting there, looking diffident, is an auburn-haired "woman" dressed smartly in heels and a skirted evening suit - her father. What's more, Hikaru and Kaoru flank his sides. _Typical Hitachiin setup, but Dad? Come on._

Her irritation waxes with confusion as the eyes of the twins light up and their mouths drop open upon seeing her. Then she remembers. _The bustier. I forgot. _Ryoji looks up, too. Upon seeing his daughter looking quite beguiling with new love rouging her cheeks, he looks to either side of him. Spying the twins' reactions, he extends both arms to cover two sets of equally gawking eyes with his hands.

"Ha-ru-hiii?" the tranny queries, his voice rising higher and higher until she's certain he'll squeak at any moment. "Why are you wearing that shawl? And where's your jacket? You told me you were going to keep it on all night."

She heads directly to stand before him, hands on hips."Don't you dare lecture me, Dad. I warned you about this." Her anger is mollifying. Kaoru pulls Ryoji's hand downward so that it covers his mouth instead of his eyes, while Hikaru slaps it away completely, to which Ryoji responds with a yelp and a cross glance.

"Please don't be angry with me, sweetheart-" Ryoji's hands fall into his lap, his eyes begging mercy.

Kaoru makes great pretense of breathing again, saying, "I don't know why you would agree to that, Haruhi. You look fantastic! I knew you would. Hey Hikaru," he adds calling to his twin behind Ryoji's back, "Doesn't she look awesome?"

Hikaru is struggling to appear disgruntled, but she catches his all-encompassing glance and sees the puckish twinkle in his eye. "Yeah, yeah. I know. You were right," comes his forced admission.

Haruhi is neither amused nor diverted. "Stop. Just stop right now, the three of you. This isn't about me, it's about you. And I don't care what you were thinking or whose idea this was. I'm not speaking to any of you for the next seven days!"

"It was my fault, Haruhi," Ryoji declares. "Don't blame the twins. They merely provided transportation."

"And tickets," Hikaru chimes in.

"Hika, shut up," Kaoru grouses.

"So." Haruhi's eyes narrow. "Just how long have you super-spies been following us?" _And why the hell didn't I notice? Well, I did. Sort of. Then again, I was pretty preoccupied. _She turns her head to look at Kyoya, who remains a step back, arms crossed, chin lowered, glasses flashing with ominous intent; disquieting, even to her. _Maybe if I'm hard enough on them, Kyoya will let them live._

Her thoughts are interrupted by the steady voice of the Shadow King. "I believe Tachibana can answer that question." Everyone turns towards the silver-haired bodyguard who has stood at silent attention throughout the exchange. Now, he looks once at Kyoya, nods, then turns to face Haruhi with a bow.

"It was Aijima who alerted me to the Hitachiin limousine's presence near your home and its following the Bentley. He was instructed to monitor only since, at that point, we were not certain if the occupants were snooping or simply delayed in following; though we assumed the former due to the fact that Kyoya-sama did not advise us of there being a second vehicle attached to the event."

"Well, that's no surprise," Hikaru interrupts. "Kyoya-sempai isn't the most forthcoming when it comes to sharing information, now is he?" He rebelliously glares at Kyoya whose own expression grows darker.

"Go on," Haruhi says in a level voice. _What is going on with everybody tonight?_

Tachibana continues, "I noticed this trio loitering in the lobby at the Grand Roy, but only the…uhh…lady dined at Lotus."

Ryoji's face light up as he exclaims, "And worth every penny, Haruhi. It was wonderful, though I could only order an appetizer and a glass of water. The cost, you know. But you looked so beautiful and so utterly happy-" He pauses, a frown turning his smile upside down. "Until that idiot, Tamaki Suou, showed up."

"Don't - say - another - word," Haruhi intones, completely ticked off by her father's audacity and the twins' complicity. _Tamaki isn't the only idiot in the mess._

Ryoji sulks, shifting back until his back hits the wall, one arm crossing his chest while the other frames his face with two fingers in the shape of an "L." The twins are sitting in mirror-image, gripping the edge of the bench with their hands as they perch forward, looking like a pair of parakeets waiting to escape their cage.

"Anything more?" Haruhi asks Tachibana.

"Yes. I recognized the Hitachiins, of course, and had Aijima monitor them. Their presence and that of your…father...would never have inconvenienced Kyoya-sama or yourself had you both not gone to the lobby at Intermission. It then became a matter of avoiding a head-on collision which, knowing the young master, was to be avoided at all costs."

Haruhi again looks at Kyoya who remains a statue. _So, that's who you spoke to and why you hustled me back upstairs? _"You knew they were here," she directs at him.

"I didn't want to spoil your evening with their foolishness. I hoped it wouldn't come to this."

The twins lean forward and give one another a look. Hikaru then says to Kyoya, "Ummm, sempai? You do know that Tamaki-sempai is here, too. Right?"

Kyoya's Death Glare is now fully operational and aimed at the trio that huddles together with genuine regret for their actions, cross marks dancing on their foreheads.

Kyoya responds stiffly, "We saw him with his father."

"Good thing he's with him. His father, that is," Kaoru states, hoping to keep the walls from caving in on the hole Hikaru keeps digging for himself.

Hikaru adds in a nonchalant manner, "Yeah. The last thing we need now is Tamaki-sempai showing up."

Haruhi looks around nervously as if the invocation of the blond's name will make him appear like a phantom, just as he did at Lotus. _But no, we're safe. So far._

"_I_ think we all should just call it a night," she finally avers. "There's school tomorrow and it's getting late." Nobody on the bench moves, afraid to make any suggestion after their total bungle of the evening. _I wish you'd say something, Kyoya. You're making me nervous._ When there's no response from him, she says to the twins, "Well, obviously you guys have a car so you can go home directly." She sighs. "And it makes no sense for you to take a cab or go with them, Dad, so I guess you'll ride home with Kyoya and me." _So much for being alone with Kyoya again. I'd bet money that you planned this all along, Dad, but you're just not that devious. And trust me, I know devious from these guys._

She turns to Kyoya. "Is that alright with you?" she asks apologetically. He doesn't answer, so she takes a step closer. "Kyoya? Are you okay?" Her brow wrinkles at the pallor of his face and his dilated pupils. He struggles to stay upright and, as Haruhi's concerned voice calls his name once more, he staggers forward and into Tachibana's ready arms.

End - Chapter 23 - Drop in the Ocean

**_A/N: Playlist at You Tube. Just insert the following after the main address in the addy bar:_**

**_/playlist?list=PLpvqHQH1_rc28CxCYDvbvo4pYbvU8s0vm_**

* * *

Drop in the Ocean - Michelle Branch [Haruhi-centric]

Love took me by the hand.  
Love took me by surprise.  
Love led me to you.  
And love opened up my eyes.

And I was drifting away  
like a drop in the ocean,  
And now I realize that  
nothing has been as beautiful  
As when I saw heaven's skies  
In your eyes. In your eyes.

And every time I drift away,  
I lose myself in you.  
And now I see I can be me  
In everything I do.

'Cause I was feeling as small  
as a drop in the ocean,  
And now I realize that  
nothing has been as beautiful  
As when I saw heaven's skies  
In your eyes. In your eyes.

Love took me by the hand.  
Love took me by surprise.  
And I was drifting away  
like a drop in the ocean.

Now I realize that  
nothing has been as beautiful  
As when I saw heaven's skies  
In your eyes. In your eyes.  
In your eyes. In your eyes.

Inyoureyes. (sung as one word)


End file.
